


366 Days coming full circle

by CrushedRose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Beautiful, Cute, Depression, Falling In Love, Fluff, Funny, Gen, Greg being brilliant, M/M, Sad, oh god the fluff, with Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 367
Words: 150,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrushedRose/pseuds/CrushedRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing prompts for each day of the year.  All stand alone,  and reasonably short.<br/>Please enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a one year writing prompts I found on pinterset. There is one for every day. Since we are already in February, I do have some catching up to do.  
> I'm looking forward to the challenge.  
> To start I might post several chapters a day to get on target. 
> 
> Each day is a chapter and promt on each one. They will be reasonably short.
> 
> Please don't be shy with the reviews.

 

In the beginning 

 

Shock.  

Anger.  

Frustration.  

Hostility.  

Perplexed. 

Astonishment.  

Dismayed and most certainly awe. 

Yes. Awe was 10% more than the other emotions. Greg was certain that if he put his mind to it, he could fill a whole newspaper crossword puzzle with descriptions and emotions.  And all of these are taking turns to reveal themselves across his face as he drove home.   

 

After all this time being a cop, spending years on the force, the last thing he needed was a tall, and clever genius junkie tearing his crime scene apart with his laser eyes, cataloguing and pointing out evidence and theories like some sort of endless stream of colourful handkerchiefs out of a magician's sleeve. 

 

"Who the hell does he think he is?  Some kind of crime scene fighter super hero?" He started laughing, took a deep breath and made his voice deep. 

"When all else fails, when the cops are down, and crime the highest, who is left to fight?  Who will save the day? 

Is it forensics? No. 

Is it justice? No, 

It’s Genius Junkie!!"     

He chuckled quietly as he continued his journey home.  As brilliant as he was, and astounding the situation Greg couldn’t help the sense of foreboding for the future, for him, for the Met, for the streets and for the genius junkie with the name of Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft learns fast

 

Something new

 

Greg walked into his office and stopped.

 

He looked around, but nothing seems out of place, except the package on his desk. A very intimidating package. It was a small box, wrapped in black satin like paper, very classy and stylish. On top was a very expensive and shiny gold ribbon, folded in an extravagant bow. The whole look was completed with a small, yet delicate card tucked under the bow.

 

With another glance around the room, he walked closer. Putting his bag on the floor he sat down in front of his desk and took out the card. Turning it over once, he read it and started frowned.

 

“A clear safety precaution to approach the formidable DI Lestrade.” Mycroft Holmes

 

Trying to preserve the ribbon he opened the box, looking inside he started laughing. It was a mug, a normal, plain black coffee mug. Removing the mug from the box he turned it all over, no writing, and no inscription, nothing dangerous.  

He looked at his take away coffee in the paper cup and shrugging he poured the contents into his new mug.

 

It was changing colour. 

 

He sat down and waited patiently as the whole mug changed and the full message became visible. Whereas before he was laughing, he was practically snorting with laughter.

 

It showed a meter bar, with four markers from top to bottom.

 

1\. If full, smile and walk away

2\. Accompany smile with small wave

3\. Almost approachable

4\. You may talk now.

 

You see, just last week Greg gave Mycroft and earful after he mistakenly made some demands about Sherlock, very early in the morning, and before the DI had his first sip of coffee.  

Greg was unrelenting, and even barked out exactly what he thought of the situation; “I’m not even done with my first coffee for the day. Wait till its finished, grow some manners and ask again!”

 

Mycroft thought it appropriate to help the public and police force to give them clear indicators for future reference.


	3. Time

 

Time

 

To realize the value of

 

 

 

One year, ask a student who failed a grade

One month, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby

One week, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper

One day, ask a daily labourer with kids to feed

One hour, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet

One minute, ask a person who missed the train

One second, ask a person who just avoided an accident

One millisecond, ask the person who won a silver medal in the Olympics.

 

 

 

 

 

Greg was old and wise enough to know things happen.  Things you can control, and some things you can’t.  He also got enough experience to know to that in order to measure time; you need to put in the context you are measuring it with.  For example, waiting in a queue, doesn’t seem too bad, but are you waiting for concert tickets or waiting to see the doctor?  You could wait for the same amount of time, but each will feel eons apart.

 

 It’s the stakes, which makes the difference.

 

 Detective Lestrade can vehemently testify that he is an expert in all the time frames.

He can testify that a month can feel like a year when Mycroft is out of the country, in who knows where, doing who knows what.

 

 He can tell you that week can feel like a month, when you are trying to get a guilty verdict on a murderer.

 

 He can go into detail how a day can feel like a week when you’re sitting next to a hospital bed of Sherlock, after another stunt with a cocaine overdose.

 

 He can tell you that an hour can feel like a day when sitting in the Chief’s office and listening to his colleagues incriminating one of the biggest assets the Met has seen.  He can tell you the minute that Sherlock was condemned and his career was placed on the line. 

 

 He will always remember the minute that things would forever be different between him and his colleagues, that irreparable second that Sherlock jumped. 

 

One minute and several lives forever altered. 

 

A second of doubt, a lifetime of regrets.

 

 Time.

 

 Yes, oh how he hated the concept of time, but have great respect and admiration for the concept of a moment.

 

 

 


	4. New habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letting go of habits

 

New Habits

If science is to believe, or research facilities, then it takes 21 days to form a new habit, or to lose a bad habit.

 

In some instances a whole lot less time.  

 

It took Greg ten days and two undelivered messages. When Sherlock was alive he would sent him a text message once a week, just to check up on him. To help him stay clean, and to give him the occasional cold case.  

He had a sense of responsibility towards the young man, and as he told John once, Sherlock is, no was, a great man, and with luck he would one day be a good one.  

 

Fate or whatever you call it decided to make that one day, sooner than expected and made Sherlock a very good man. Then he jumped.

 

So two undelivered messages later he realise he no longer had to keep up his habit of looking out for the younger man. He did all he could.

 

The problem was that it was a habit he really enjoyed. It made him feel good about himself; it made him feel like he can make a difference.

 

The one habit he didn’t enjoy, but is missing so much it makes his heart ache, is the constant messages he would receive all times of day, especially during the night.  

 

The messages of Sherlock asking for a case.

 

Or to call him an idiot.

 


	5. Take flight

 

Take flight

 

It was final. Both their signatures on one document, an initial on each page, with a full signature to conclude it all.

 

He is free.  

Single.

Divorced man.

No longer attached.

 

Greg looked out over the river below. He did loved London with all his heart. There was something timeless about this majestic city, hundreds of year’s history in one place, a history that continues to grow and expand.  

 

“My marriage is history.” He thought, not a hundred percent whether with bitterness, or gratitude. He looked down at his wedding ring, a small weary old golden band. Feels a lot heavier than it actually weighs. He came out here today, because the walls at his flat was suffocating him, and the looks at the Yard, were drowning him. He needed air, he needed to get out.

Maybe he should throw the ring in the river, like some kind of dramatic plot in a movie. Besides, there are countless treasures beneath the murky waters anyway.

 

But he doesn’t really want to.

He wants to do something though.

Walking back towards his flat he passes a jewellery store, right next to a tattoo shop. A design caught his eyes. He’s too old for a tattoo, but maybe…..

Yes… 

 

He smiles and walked inside.

 

A week later he went back. He melted the ring, into a small reminder, a new symbol, something positive and promises of something new.

 

He looks at it.

Two small cufflinks, in the shape of a wings. 

 

A new chapter of his life.

 

Something new to take flight.

 


	6. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are my summer. "

 

Frost

 

“Yes.” Greg looked around with a smile on face. Winter is almost gone, and then it would be lovely summer. He always enjoyed summer just a little bit more than winter.

  

Don’t get him wrong, he loves all the seasons, but ever since he and Mycroft started dating summer will be his top one. There’s nothing like sitting outside, watching the sun set, late evening, with a glass of wine in one hand and Mycroft’s in the other.

 

He and Mycroft have come a long way, a very long way. They’ve known about each other for years now, always dancing around each other, until one day, that cha cha become a beautiful synchronised waltz.

 

They started dating in winter, and it was when the first heat wave was in London that Mycroft told him, he loved him.

Greg remembers like it was yesterday

 

“I can’t take this heat, it feels like I’m thawing.”

“Why don’t you take of your jacket and waistcoat? I can most certainly help.”

“Gregory!”

“MMmmm?”

“We are outside, in public.”

“You’re right, I can’t be arrested for jumping my hot partner in public, heaven knows how sexy he looks all sweaty and dishevelled.” Mycroft just stared and after a while, his face became soft.

“You’re my summer Gregory.”

“Wait. What?”

“My summer, you thawed my heart from all the frost, just like the summer removed the frost from winter.”

“Mycroft….. I...”

“I love you.” 

 

Yes, Greg didn’t care that they were in public; he didn’t care as he walked to his partner and kissed him, like his life depended on it. He did laugh when they received a small cheer from a nearby group of teenagers. 

 

Summer was great.

 

 


	7. Life's work

 

 

Life’s work

 

Sherlock would never admit it, but somehow Greg made himself indispensable.

He was the first person outside of his family who took a genuine interest in him, he didn’t care that his social skills rivalled that of a papercut, or that he took every opportunity he could get to deduce Greg’s life, down to the last coffee stain.

 

He still came back; he still gave him a chance.

 

He keeps on giving him chances. 

 

Sherlock knows that Greg thinks his brilliant and a great man, he knows that he has the potential to be a good man.  

Admittedly it took him years to figure out the difference between good and great. Logical deduction tells you that great is better than good.

 

But good….

 

Good has the ability to change your heart, to change who you are as a person.

 

Granted he will never be the biggest social butterfly, but he did learn to be more sociable.

He has the mind to do anything, but it was Greg who planted the seed to be good.

To solve crime, to bring justice.

 

So when he says he’s married to his work, it’s his way of saying that it’s his life’s work to be good, instead of great.

 

And just maybe, he can be as good as Greg.

 


	8. Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes silence is louder noise

Silent

 

His flat has never been this silent before.

 

The TV was off, the radio full of dust.

There was no water dripping from some kind of hiding tap.

The windows were open, but even London was silent.

 

Not a breeze anywhere in sight to rattle a window frame, or to bring in a sound of life from the streets down below. If he didn’t know any better London took a moment of silence in memory of Sherlock Holmes.

 

It’s as though it could feel the loss of that great man, of lost adventures and fading chases.

 

He’s been dead for less than a day, but the world is mourning already.

 

This silence is creeping in his bones, its suffocating his blood flow. 

 

Taking a deep breath he breaks the silence with a dry, chocked sob.

 


	9. Guilty pleasures

Guilty pleasures

No one know, and if asked vehemently denied. This is their secret, their bubble of escaping the world.   
Whenever they get the chance Greg and Mycroft would dress up as tourists and go out in London and truly participate in something uniquely tourist. They would pretend that they are from some other country, with little to no understanding of English.

Mycroft is excellent in that department, with his I speak several languages, I’m practically Google translate on my own.

Last time they did the London open bus rides. They oohed and aaahed at all the historic buildings, they took hundreds of pictures with the change of guards. Mycroft enjoying it to see the whole spectacle from a different point of the fence. He is inside that palace so often, but this something new.

The time before that, they took the London Tower experience and the Jack the Ripper experience. They walked through the alleyways, listened to Sweeney Todd and his adventures, sat in the chairs as they got sprayed, the whole shebang.

Today?

Today is different, they are doing something no tourist has done, in fact, and hardly any UK citizens have this experience. They are in Buckingham Palace, the Royals somewhere else, and half the normal crew is off, Mycroft orders of course. 

Meaning they have the palace pretty much for themselves for a few hours they can pretty role play any situation in the British history. They can go wild, dance in every room, paint the place red, if they so desire, yet….

It’s the several bedrooms they decided to get acquainted with the most….


	10. Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is very persistent

 

 

Persistence

 

 

“Isn’t this stalking?” Mycroft walked towards his desk. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade was sitting in his chair.

“Probably. Better than kidnapping though.” Greg removed his feet from the edge of the desk and sat up straight. He smiled at Mycroft.

“I don’t kidnap.”

“No?” Leaning closer towards Mycroft he held out his card.

“You know, you’re right, stalking is bad, you should call the police, here take my card. Also in the interest of your safety, why don’t you shouldn’t be alone, I volunteer to look after you. Let’s go have dinner. I’ll even through in desert.”

 

Mycroft sighted.

“You’re very persistent.”

“Me? Never. It’s all for public safety you know.” Greg gave Mycroft his most cheeky, boyish smile he could muster. Mycroft hated it, he can’t say no to that. Damn the man. For the past few weeks, Greg has been trying to get him to go on a date with him, and apparently he can’t understand the word ‘no’. 

 

“Why do you want to go out with me? What makes you think I’m interested?”

Greg stood up and walked around to the chair, he placed both hands on the chair, blocking Mycroft inside.  

“Because I’ve seen how you looked at me, you want me, I want you. Most importantly I know we will be good together. So come on. Let go of your restrictions, let’s go on a date.” Mycroft shallowed, Greg in his personal space, is really not feasible for his libido. 

 

He looked up in Greg’s eyes.  

 

“You said there’s desert?”

 

 


	11. Life is. ..

Life is…

 

Regardless of your viewpoint, upbringing, religion or philosophy, Greg has realised that life, well, life is for those with a heartbeat. 

 

Nothing brings that fact home like burying a person.  

It's actually not raining, it’s not hot and sunny, but it isn't raining.  

 

Greg stood at one side, looking in at the service. Everything in him is telling him to run away, to take the guilt and ran. The message however is not reaching his feet.

 

So here he is standing, contemplating. 

To be fair, isn't it what you're supposed to do at funerals?

This brings him back to life.

 

For those adventure seekers there will always be an adventure to find. 

For those romantics; romance. 

The dreamers; a dream

The builders; a new design. 

 

Whatever it is you’re looking for, you will find it, as long as you’re alive. 

The only ones missing out, is those that are dead.

Like Sherlock. 

 

Life

 

Life is for the living, it sucks for the rest.


	12. Something blue

 

 

Something blue

 

The one thing Greg loves above all the other wonderful features of Mycroft is his eyes. 

 

Greg's eyes have been compared to chocolate, hazelnut, coffee, a winter's fire, but nothing ever like the depths of the ocean, or the unlimited vastness of the sky.

 

No.

 

That is for Mycroft. 

Mycroft couldn't understand it, the way Greg would just sit and stare into his eyes. It used to make him uncomfortable, but now he uses the opportunity to stare back. 

He would look at Greg and asked:

"Why do you love looking into my eyes so much?"

Greg would smile and reply; 

"Because I see our souls - mine and yours - dancing for all time, in the depths of light in them."

 

Greg is the only man, who can take him apart and put him back together, better than before.


	13. Reflection

Revelation

 

Greg was at a crime scene when he got the revelation.   

He froze and became oblivious to the world around him. There were two bodies in the car. Anderson was collecting evidence.

Sally trying to get statements.

Sherlock was spewing deductions faster than Michael Schumacher around a race track.

John was standing quietly, looking at Sherlock and observing everything around them.

No one paid attention to Greg. He stood there pen in hand, notebook open. A million miles away.

He and Mycroft have been dating for almost a year and he always knew that it was serious. 

 

But now

 

He loved him.

Like love LOVE him, like can’t take another peaceful breath without you in my life.

He stood for several minutes.

 

Mycroft arrived at the scene, looking up on Sherlock and was the first to notice.

He walked closer

“Gregory?”

Sherlock stopped what he was doing and looked at Mycroft then turned to the DI. He walked closer as well, John falling in step behind him. Mycroft tried again, a bit louder.

“Gregory.” 

Greg blinked and looked at Mycroft. His face light up with the most breathtakingly beautiful smile Mycroft has ever seen and he knew.

 

He knew.

 

He smiled back.

 


	14. Familiar phrases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time is always the hardest

Familiar phrases

 

In the beginning the phrase felt strange and uneasy on his lips

 

The first time he said, he nearly choked. Greg was very close to crying, the sex that followed was the most intense, and the best he ever had.  

It was only in the aftermath that Greg joked with the look he had when he said it.

Then it became easier

 

The second time he said it, he just pulled a face

The third time his face was neutral

The fourth time, a smile was accompanying the phrase.

 

That’s when Mycroft made it a part of his daily life to say it as much as he could, as many times it was possible. Now he didn’t left the house without saying it to Greg, and he makes sure it’s the last thing he hears before falling asleep.

 

It became the most familiar phrase in their relationship and after all this time it still sounds as true and real as the first time.

 

“Gregory. I love you.”


	15. Weakness/Strength

Weakness/ strength

 

It’s his greatest strength, but also his greatest weakness. On more than one occasion. Sherlock has mocked him for it, but Greg doesn’t care, most of the time. It’s the one thing that made him keep giving chances to Sherlock.  

The one thing that pushed him forward when the cases were getting too rough.

It made him go back to Mycroft after a fight

 

Greg has a heart, a genuine caring heart. A heart for people.

 

Sometimes he feels like Mycroft has a point in saying “Caring is not an advantage” and other times he feels like it’s the best advantage he has.

 

Secretly Sherlock admires and respect that, because he knows if Greg didn’t had the heart he has, he never would’ve made it as far as he did. Greg’s heart gave him the courage to stay clean, or relatively clean.

Mycroft is of the opinion that its one of his best characteristics, and knows that Greg’s heart is the fire to his ice one. The one to melt it.

 

However, when he failed to save a life and the guilt keeps him up, or when he was unable to catch a paedophile and when he cries into his pillow he knows it’s also his greatest weakness


	16. Talisman

Talisman

“You stay here.”  
“Excuse me.”  
“You heard.” Sherlock looked at Greg, his posture unrelenting. Greg stood his ground, his arms folded.  
“It’s my case. I’m the cop. I’m going in.”  
“No. You are not.”  
“You can’t order me Sherlock!”  
“I can. I did.” He looked around to John.  
“Come on John.”   
John started to follow but stopped when he reached Greg.   
“Wait a minute. Sherlock, are you superstitious?”  
“Superstitious? John don’t be an idiot.” Greg caught on and his eyes widen in surprise.  
“That’s why you didn’t want me to go in. The thief turned murderer stole an old pagan talisman! The one that according to myth cause heartbreak and a failed relationship to those who touch it, those who are in a relationship. Meaning only single people can touch it…. Meaning you care about my relationship with your brother.”

“I do not. That’s absurd.” Sherlock tried his best to look like Greg wasn’t right. Greg looked like the cat got the cream. John tried to not let his smirk show.  
“You care!”  
“Ridiculous. Fine go in, go get your murderer.”   
Sherlock tried to move away but Greg stopped him, he handed him his warrant card.

“Not a chance. I’m dating a Holmes. I need all the help I can get. Besides we might decide to name our firstborn after you.”   
Sherlock stood flabbergasted. He just stared at Greg with a pained look. Finally he huffed in response and pocketed the warrant card.

“You’re not getting this back.”  
“Small price to pay to know you care.”


	17. In motion

In motion

Greg lived for moment as these. A warm fire, his and Mycroft’s legs intertwined on the couch, facing each other. A glass of brandy at each side and a book for each.

Happy.  
Relaxed.  
Content.

At the Yard there is always noise, always running around, phones ringing, doors slamming, always something in motion.  
Even with Mycroft. Always something calling his attention, a crisis, an interruption.  
The world is constant in motion.

Time goes quicker day by day and it gets harder for them to just sit back and do nothing. Just the two of them. Just to be.

To relish the time spent together, to stop the rush of motion.

Just for a little while.


	18. Just enough

Just enough

Ever since Greg met Sherlock and with that Mycroft, he had to work extra hard to remind himself that he can do his job.

He always had to work hard for what he has, put in the extra effort and it has paid off. It made him stronger; it boosted his self-esteem, made him independent. As a result it is very hard for him to be intimidated.

He bends for no one, he bows to no one. Even his Chief has a hard time to get him to dance according to his strings.  
Greg is loyal, has integrity and principles.   
His moral compass is on the straight and narrow.

So when Sherlock arrived on the scene and did the job, in a fraction of the time, effort and work, he had to remind himself a bit more than normal that he was a good detective. A good cop.

He made peace with what and who he is, and it takes a lot more of Sherlock’s deductions to rattle his cage.   
Greg knows he is a good man

And that is just enough.


	19. Makes you smile

Makes you smile

Greg is an expert in the little things. He knows it’s the little things that can make or break a relationship. When all the little things stack up it becomes a big thing.

Like a snowball

That’s why the first morning he made breakfast for Mycroft he made pancakes with smiley faces out of chocolate and fruit.  
Mycroft just stared in surprise and after looking at Greg; he gave a small smile and ate. It was the best he ever had.  
The first time they bath together he wrote little corny messages on the massive bathroom mirror, only to be seen when steamed up. Mycroft smiled shyly and kissed him.

He once posted a package to his office. Anthea helped. It was a small box full of small envelopes. Each a different colour, with a different request.

“Read this when angry.”  
“Read this when tired.”  
“Read this when you want to kill someone.”  
“Read this when people are extra stupid.”  
“Read this when you miss me.”  
“Read this when we had a fight.”  
He saved them all and opened each one when he felt the emotion described. In all of them was a small sealed hard candy, a love note, and a small joke or corny message. He would smile and his day and mood would be better.

Once Mycroft asked him why Greg just replied:

“It makes you smile.”


	20. Look up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always look up

Look up

They haven’t spoken in a week. Mycroft was in some country doing who knows what. Greg was missing him like crazy. Mycroft did say he would try to call, the first chance he gets, but so far no luck.   
Even Sherlock noticed the change in his mood, but for once didn’t comment.

Tonight he was in a worse mood. It was cold; he was hungry and hasn’t slept properly in two days. He looked around; they were on a riverbank, the small waves of the Thames gently swishing against the boats.

You could see the moon, shining brightly on all those down below. He was about to turn around when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his mood lifted.  
“My.”  
“Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was calm and like a soothing balm to his mood. “My apologies for not calling sooner.”  
“It’s okay. Hell it’s good to hear your voice.” Greg took a deep breath.  
“I share your sentiments. Are you busy?”  
“Not for you.” Mycroft gave a small laugh.  
“We’re almost done. I’ll probably be home in a few days, less than a week.”  
“Thank God, I’m going crazy over here; I think I’m a wreck without you. Everyone noticed, they just don’t comment on it. Probably the safest for them.”  
“I’m a bit dishevelled as well. Never experienced it before, it’s quite disconcerting.”  
“your homesick or Greg sick?” Greg tried to lighten the mood.  
“Greg sick.” He answered without humour. Greg closed his eyes and swallowed.  
“I’m Mycroft sick.”  
“Not Holmes?”  
“No, I’m working with the other Holmes, it’s not the same.”  
“Indeed.”

Looking up Greg had an idea.  
“My, are you outside or inside?”  
“Inside, but I do have a balcony.”  
“Is it night? Can you see the moon?”  
“Yes.” There was some movement and the sound of a door opening.  
“I’m outside.”  
“Look up.”  
“Up?”  
“Yes, at the moon.”  
“I’m looking.”  
“I’m looking at the moon too, so remember wherever you are in the world, the moon always looks the same, and tonight we may be apart, but for this brief moment in time we are doing the same thing, we are looking at the moon, talking to each other, missing each other. Always remember to look up.”


	21. Reflection

21\. Reflection   

Greg sat at his desk, another long and tiring week under his belt. He was hungry, he was tired.   His hand was cramping from all the writing; report after report, his new hobby:  justifying Sherlock's antics and skills to fit in with the case.   On top of that he had a visit from the genius's brother.     
Oh what a visit that was; late at night, after a gruelling day and then this black car showed up.     
Upon reflection the visit could have gone better, if he was caught in a better mood, but Mycroft with his love of dramatics, chose exactly that moment.  He probably thought he’d catch Greg at his most unguarded.  

Bad mistake.   

One one-sided conversation car drive later - he did try to make conversation with the mysterious woman he really did in the end he just talk about all the most random things he could think of.     
He winces on what she must think.     
So there he stood in a basement with dramatic lighting and a man who screams 'enigma' with an umbrella.     
"Good evening Inspector.”  Boy he lost it at that voice. Ignoring how attractive he found the man and the voice he was just too tired to care.   
"Don't."   
"Excuse me?"   
"Don't come with your good evening inspector, and your scary, dramatic car ride, with Miss Silence and then with your basement out of a Godfather movie.  
 Whatever it is, I’m not playing. If you want to bribe, I’ll strangle you with the cheque. If you want my cooperation in a case /or any other police matter, I’ll handcuff your brains to the umbrella and leave you in the rain.  I've had a shitty week with little to no sleep, my stomach is under the impression I've amputated my throat.  So please get to the point. "     
It was deadly silent, even the woman stopped typing on her phone, an amused smile on her face.  The man raised his eyebrows and was completely speechless. After a few moments he swallowed.    
"I'm sorry.  I'm Mycroft Holmes and are looking out for my brother, Sherlock whom you've somehow taken under your care this week."   
Greg stared.   "Oh bloody hell. There are two of you?  You know its shit like this that makes aliens skip this planet. "


	22. Rooted

22\. Rooted   

“Why did you do it?”  Sally stood at his doorway, hands folded, her whole body posture screaming anger and frustration.     
Greg gripped the door handle tighter. “Because it was the right to do, and I’m not going to lie.”   
“The things he did, the way...”   
“Shut up.” She quickly closed her mouth in surprise.       
“You are just bitter and jealous.  You never liked him, you always treated him with disdain, he was better than us, granted his social skills matched a teaspoon, but you never, not once treated him with the respect a police officer is supposed to, you let your personal issues cloud your judgement and now he is dead.    
Because of you, because of Anderson, because of all of us.  And you are feeling guilty and probably have trouble sleeping at night.  And you should.   Your guilt won’t bring him back.  You didn’t win Donovan.  And yes I may be suspended, and under a very intense investigation, but no matter the outcome.  I believed in Sherlock, and I know what he did for us, for the Met.    
Not you, or anyone will change my mind.”     
She stood there, eyes wide in surprise, pain evident in her eyes.   “I’m sorry.”  
“Won’t help.  He is still dead, I might lose everything.”   
“You can just say at the investigation what they want you to say and you get your job back.”   
“Are you serious?  Lie? Say I was so taking in the manipulation and game of Sherlock that I didn’t see him for who he is?  The thing is Donovan.  I did see him for whom he is, which is a whole lot more than you ever did.  I’m not going to lie. I’m a cop, with honour, loyalty and integrity and it means something to me.  Just like Sherlock meant a lot for me.”     
Sherlock once said, you can’t stop an idea, once it took a root in your mind, but Greg really wished he could tell him, that the respect, the privilege to have worked with him, is deeper and more firmly planted than any root of doubt.    


	23. 23. Green light

23\. Green light   

"No."   
"Sherlock, I asked you for your opinion about suits, not to wake me up at 5 in the morning, on my weekend off, so you can throw away my best clothes! "   Greg sat on his bed, looking at the clothes scattered around the room. Shirts lay in heaps, with ties all around. He sat on the bed in his boxers.   
"You're going to a function with Mycroft.  As a plus one."  
"His plus one.  As matter of fact.“  Greg smiled.  This is the first time he and Mycroft are going public and he wanted to look good.  He wanted Mycroft to be proud of him.   
"Exactly.  You're the first person besides me that he cares for and even though you are a liability, he still wants to be seen with you in public, and therefore you need to look decent."   
"Jeez, way to make me feel better. " Sherlock ignored him as he continued looking through the wardrobe, hardly anything was left.   "What kind of clothes and colours does he like on you?”   
"I'm not sure, he pays extra attention when I'm wearing, green, red or blue.”  
"Predictable.  Colours that bring out your eyes.  Sentiment idiot."   
"Oi!  That's my partner you're talking about, and clothes wise, he likes me without any the best.“    
He waited with a smirk on his face for that information to sink in...   

Three   

Two   

One   

Sherlock froze.  His back rigid and breath caught in his throat.  His coat swished as he turned around.   His eyes locking onto Greg's.  Eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline. His hands grabbed his temples. "OH GOD! Delete.  Delete. "  
He quickly turned around and walked out the room.  Greg following behind.  
Sherlock stood at the couch with a package in his hand. "Sherlock?”   
"Here.  Wear this."   
"What's this?”   
"A suit.  Shirt.  There’s shoes as well." With a last look at Greg he walked towards the door.   
"Wait.  This was here the whole time? "   
"Obviously.”   
"Then why the show in the bedroom?”   
"You're dating my brother, you didn't think I'm giving the green light without some difficulty?”  With a door slam Greg was left alone in the flat.   

A smile slowly forming on his lips. He opened the package.  It was a pitch black suit, with a pure white shirt and a lime green tie.  Perfect for his brown eyes.

"Guess Mycroft isn't the only sentimental one..."


	24. muse

Muse.

Greg slowly walked up the steps of Baker Street. John was on his way to work and send him a text message to say Sherlock finally passed out after a tough case and is fast asleep. 

Tomorrow is Sherlock's birthday and Greg decided to leave him a gift this year. After last year fiasco he learned his lesson.

At the top of the stairs he slowed down.  
Sherlock may be asleep but he is not taking any chances.  
He opened the door and looked around. He shook his head; the place was still a mess. He had no idea how the two men lived like this. 

He looked towards the bedroom, the door was closed and apparently the little genius was in there being human and sleeping. He walked towards Sherlock's laboratory, also functioning as the kitchen of 221B Baker Street. He turned towards the microscope and placed his package next to it. With one last glance he left the flat. 

Sherlock awoke in the early morning on his birthday quite refreshed and already bored. Stood in the living room, his nose turned up. He cocked his head to his side.  
"Lestrade." Smiling he turned around and went into the kitchen, contrary to belief he does know how to make tea.  
As he made tea his eye caught the package. It was a small black gift bag with white tissue paper. Frowning he looked inside. It contained an envelope. He took it out of the bag and opened it. Inside was a small key chain with a small human Einstein figure, with moving hands and legs. Rolling his eyes he took out the card. There were two tickets with the card.

Two tickets to the Body World exhibition at the dome.  
He read the card.

"Since your muse is murder, drugs or corpses I'm not getting you drugs or an invitation to kill, so maybe you'll enjoy this? Have a good day in memory of your day being born. Lestrade." 

Sherlock smiled.


	25. 25. family secret/s

Family secret/s

Greg watched as Sherlock walked away into the shadows. The same shadows he appeared from moments before. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.   
Sherlock prefers the shadows just as Mycroft whole career is done in the shadows.   
"They live in the bloody shadows." He whispered.

With steady and deliberate steps he walked into the Diogenes club, straight towards Mycroft office. He didn't even bother with knocking, this would be the last time he stepped foot in this place.   
Mycroft looked up as he entered, his posture hanging, with one look at Greg he knew what was coming.   
"You knew." Greg’s voice was shuddering with anger, his body was vibrating. Mycroft softly replied.  
"Yes."  
"Two years!”  
"Gregory...."  
"Stop. Don't." They stood staring at each other. Time passed. Mycroft could read the disappointment and heartache and the pain like clear dictionary explanations of Greg. Greg knew he was an open book to Mycroft, but didn't even try to hide his emotions.   
Two years of pain, self-resentment and guilt over Sherlock's suicide and all for nothing. The sleepless nights, the inquests with his work. The suspension, the breaking of his character was for nothing. All for nothing

The Holmes boys proved them once again above everyone else.   
After a while one slow tear ran down his cheek. Mycroft closed his eyes in surrender.   
"I'm so sorry. The circumstances were..."  
"Please don't. I beg you. I'm tired of always being just this side of good enough. This is the Holmes way, the Holmes secret." The rest he didn't need to say. They both know he was the one who lost the most in the deception. 

With one last look at Mycroft he turned around and walked out into the rain.


	26. 'C' is for. ..

26.  
'C' is for....

The letter C has a lot of weight.   
So many words that starts with a C, and all them has its own revelation and responsibility:  
Caring   
Commitment   
Contentment   
Call   
Crime   
Courageous   
Courage   
Confident   
Confused   
Cautious  
Courteous   
Concern   
So many. 

Mycroft, Sherlock, John and Sally stood in the hallway, looking through the glass. Greg was lying in hospital, a multitude of wires and machines surrounding him.  
His torso wrapped up in gauze, hiding his chest from the world. 

It was supposed to be a routine; He was on a simple door to door. They were looking for a murder suspect; he talked to the woman in the hallway and even helped her with the groceries. Sherlock rolled his eyes at it, most likely calling him an idiot in his mind, John just smiled and continued. Sally just shrugged and went on. Each at the door. She seemed innocent, and she went into her flat, the door was open and Greg turned around to give her his card. 

That's when she pulled the gun and shot at him. The impact of the three bullets forced him backwards and onto the ground. Sally, Sherlock and John rushed to his side. Sally called it in and went after the woman. John and Sherlock looked after Greg.   
Greg couldn't move or say anything as he went into shock and lost consciousness. His hand was grasping for something to hold on. Sherlock stepped up and grabbed his hand. The blood pooled underneath him like a scarlet ocean. 

The trauma was severe the doctors said, luckily the woman was a horrible shooter and missed the major organs. It didn't changed the fact that right now as he laid in the bed and his friends are looking at him that they can only think of one thing:

'C' is for critical.


	27. 27. currently reading

.  
Currently reading.

"That's the deal Sherlock, now be quiet and pay attention." Greg looked at the man wrapped in blankets on the couch. Sherlock was in another detox episode and Greg decided it's the perfect time to inform him about some procedures so he doesn't screw up a crime scene.   
"But it's so boring and dull."  
"But the law and procedure."  
"Ughg"  
"Moving on to chapter 3; The main patterns in preserving a crime scene."  
"There's patterns?” Sherlock asked while squirming under the blankets. His eyes just staring at the roof.  
"Yes. In collecting evidence, it helps you to be thorough in each area and guarantee that all evidence is collected. The grid pattern is the most used. 

When Mycroft walked into the room a few hours later he was surprised. Sherlock was sleeping and his whole face was calm. The surprising factor was that next to the bed Greg was sitting fast asleep, his legs straight and head rolled to the side. On his lap was an open book.   
Bending down he picked up the book. 

It was clear that he was reading it for Sherlock, to help him. Mycroft was touched as he closed the book and placed it on the small bedside table.  
It was a concise and clear book about all the reader needed to know about crime scenes.


	28. surface

28\. Surface

It was a very beautiful and calm day. It was sunny, but not heat wave sunny. People sat on picnic blankets all around the park just enjoying summer.   
Greg sat on his bike parked next to the river bed. After a tough week he decided to just get out of London for the day.

He was twirling his cigarette lighter in his hand while the other rested on the handle bars.   
On the surface his body posture indicated that he was relaxed and calm, just like the river in front of him. 

But deep down, he felt uneasy and turbulent like he knows the river was as well. Hundreds of years and an endless amount of mysteries are lying beneath the surface of the river. 

But that's life he thought. Every person trying their best to survive and appear calm and collected, yet underneath there's battles and wars going on.   
Anger, bitterness, pain, worrying and stress. Everybody is just trying to survive in a world of indifference.

Taking the last drag of his cigarette he put out the small burning point and threw the bud away. He pocketed his lighter and put on his helmet. With one last look around he kicked his bike into gear and continued with his journey.


	29. habit

29\. Habit

As habits go, Greg was quite consistent in his. He worked long hours and when he got home, would have dinner with his wife and then try to be there for her as much as he could.   
That is until the separation and the divorce that followed. 

Now he spent his time as much as he could at work, when he went home he would make something light to eat and then spend more time working and doing paperwork. Nearly everything in his life has become a habit and a steady routine. 

Except for Sherlock Holmes.   
Although even with Sherlock he has acquired a few habits. 

Whenever he sees him, he is just a little bit more aware of the man, then any other person. He is not in love with the man, but he does have some deep feelings for him. Something that makes him wants to protect him. That's why he checks for drugs, make sure his arms are clean, have a pack of cigarettes in his coat, and always check his place for drugs. 

It has become a habit and even after all this time and all the years that he has known the man, he still looks out for him and his bad habit. 

Some habits are just too important to let go of.


	30. longing

30.  
Longing

"Strong, persistent desire or craving, especially for something unattainable or distant"

Greg turned so that he was lying on his back; the blankets were covering his lower body. The bed was massive, okay it was a queen sized but just after the midnight hour, and sleep is eluding his mind decided to mess around by telling him since he was all alone, wrong side of 50, the bed was endless. 

Naturally his brain is going to remind him of every mistake he's ever made and after that play out every fantasy and dream he would like to come to pass. 

And right now, that’s the point in the ‘brain-screw-at-night' program he is now.   
The only problem is that with the dreams and fantasies is a deep longing, a desire for another person. It's more than lust, or love and friendship; he knows it's for a true soul connection. Something he hasn't had in years, probably his entire life. 

And he knows that person is unattainable, making his longing so much more cruel than normal. 

Longing is a miserable and gloomy emotion.   
Even worst when in the darkest hours before dawn.


	31. 8 o'clock

1\. 8 o' clock

"Lestrade the maintenance is on its way, however the traffic is appalling." Sherlock announced into the receiver.   
"It is always bad! Dammit Sherlock I need to get out of here." Greg screamed into his receiver. He was stuck in an elevator. Sherlock shrugged and rolled his eyes. 

"The murderer is only back in London tomorrow and you have nowhere else to be, and I know you’re not claustrophobic. What's the rush?" Greg was fuming and shaking with anger.   
"I. Have. A. Life. Outside. The. Yard. I have a thing tonight. "  
"A thing? What thing?" He looked at John with a frown, he shrugged in the response.  
"You're single, not seeing anyone, and it's not your pub night with John so what on earth. .... OH! Oh. Oh... you have a date! Who is it?"  
"Piss off Sherlock. Use your brain to get me out of here." Sherlock smirked. 

It was just after 07:30 John took the receiver from Sherlock and put it against his ear.   
"What time is your date?" How about you give me a number and I can call them to let them know what's going on?"  
"No." Sherlock and John stared at one another. They didn't expect that answer. They waited for another while and just before 8 the Yard door opened and Mycroft walked in.   
"Oh what are you doing here?” Sherlock all but yelled.   
"Heard there's a problem, and I'm here to offer any help."  
"I don't believe you. Besides Lestrade is stuck in the elevator and is desperate to get out, apparently he has a date. You also have plans, you’re dressed better than normal so shouldn't you get on with it and leave us?"   
Mycroft looked embarrassed for all of a second, but Sherlock was already turned away so he didn't see, but John did. His eyes grew wide.  
"Oh, you’re his date!" Both brothers turned to him and Sherlock turned back to Mycroft.   
"You and Lestrade?"   
Just then the clock announced it was 8 o' clock. With that they heard a sound from the roof. They looked up, as the ceiling opened up and Greg jumped down. A bit of dusty and a little more sweaty than normal.   
He turned to them with a big goofy smile.   
"You said 8 o' clock right Mycroft?" Mycroft stood looking at him, his pupils blown wide with desire. He swallowed and tried to get his composure back. Greg just raised his eyebrows, realising the effect he has on the man.  
"Yes. I believe we did although may I suggest a change of clothes first?" Greg smiled and winked.  
"How about getting take away instead?"


	32. first things first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting with the prompt s for February, almost on schedule!

1.

First things first

 

Greg sat back on the sofa, his right ankle resting on his left knee. A cup of tea was on the small table next to him and a plate with cake and small tarts on his knee. He looked towards Mycroft, he was sitting next to him, but it was clear he was not as relaxed as he'd like to be.

 

Granted he is meeting the Holmes origin, the Mr and Mrs Holmes and yes Greg was a bit nervous, but after ten minutes he was as relaxed as if he knew them for years.  

Mycroft was quite nervous and hesitant for the introduction of Greg, but his parents were smart and picked up there was something different about their son these days.  

 

So far everything is looking good, they loved Greg and doted around him, she complimented his distinguished silver hair and boyish smile. 

"No wonder Myc fell for you." She said and right after that offered him food, she marvelled at how he accepted and had no problem with his appetite, he even tried to feed Mycroft some of his eclairs. Best part was when he laughed at Mycroft's expression.  

 

His parents knew, right there and then, her eldest son would be okay, he have a truly wonderful partner, who would keep him on his toes, support him and who would stay true and loyal.  

 

Only one question to ask. 

 

"First things first, Myc when can I call Greg my eldest?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also if anyone can maybe help, I would like to post a picture of the whole year's promps, however finding it difficult.


	33. Shadow play

Shadow play.

This was not going so well, Greg was looking after his little niece while her parents were at a conference in Dublin. It would only be for one night and he got dragged to Baker Street to pick up Mycroft. 

The moment Mrs. Hudson saw the little dressed up pirate she announced they must have some tea. Five minutes later and she was gone, they didn't hear the front door, which means she went upstairs. Greg rushed up the stairs and stopped in his tracks at the door.   
Mycroft was already there and Sherlock had taken his umbrella as a make-shift sword and was standing opposite his niece with her sword.   
Both smiling.   
"Uncle Greg, this is long haired Sherlock from Baker islands, he wants to join our crew."  
"He does? What did you say?" Greg asked with a smile as he sat down next to Mycroft. Mycroft was amused at the proceedings in front of him.   
"Well Uncle Greg, he needs to go through an inisation and then we can decide.”  
"Initiation, poppet, what must he do?"  
Here Sherlock spoke up   
"My great captain if I may, how about a shadow play?"  
"She lowered her sword and turned to Greg.  
"What's that uncle?" Mycroft leaned forward and answered.   
"It's a type of storytelling whereas you use your hand and other instruments to tell a story against a backdrop covered by a cloth and a light, so only the cast of shadows tell the story."

Her eyes lit up.  
"Like what uncle Greg does when he reads my bedtime story, he would make birds and shapes against my wall."  
"Precisely.”  
She ran back to Sherlock   
"You may Sherlock, would there be pirates?" Bending down he looked at her face to face.   
"If you ask my brother over there he will even make a parrot for our story, he makes a great parrot."  
Mycroft looked at Sherlock, his hand gripping Greg as the only indicator how this affects him. He smiled at her. He stood up, taking of his jacket.

"Let the shadow play commences."


	34. Be still

3\. Be still

Noise. It was everywhere. London never had a moment of quietness, there was always something going on. 

Then there was the politicians, all idiots and who can't think for themselves, which may be good, and give men like Mycroft to do the thinking. The results are more feasible that way.

However today he is not having a great day. There are problems in other countries he needs to sort out, there are problems here he needs to sort out.   
Problems with Sherlock,   
Problems, problems and just like the river Thames cutting through the heart of the city, the problems is cutting through his head with a razor sharp blade.   
This is made worse by the migraine he is developing.   
He picked up his phone and started typing.   
"Gregory, could you perhaps get some of that tea you made last time?"  
"Of course. Go home now. I'm taking off as well."  
He still has so much to do, but if Gregory is on his way home, he really should go. Mind made up he called Anthea and left her in charge for the day. 

The moment he got home he smelt it, the subtle smell of lavender through the flat.   
"Gregory?"  
Greg came out of the kitchen with a smile on his face.   
"Hey, I ran you a bath with some sandalwood oil, you get in, and I’ll bring the rest."  
With a kiss he left to go upstairs. He was relaxing in the bath when Greg came in.  
"I made some lavender tea for your migraine and I'm also going to massage some lavender oil on your temples, forehead and neck." Then you are getting some rest."  
"Gregory, I don't know what to say..."  
"Shh. Be still."


	35. What we inherit

4.  
What we inherit

Greg stood in front of the marble stone, his face stern and broody.  
He never told anyone, not even Mycroft knows. He's kept it such a close guarded secret for so long; he won't even be able to tell you why.

After some time he took a step forward and wiped some of the dirt and leaves away. He then went on and picked up the old and dead flowers and walked over to the dustbin and throws it away. He then placed a new and small bouquet of flowers underneath the stone right in the middle under the name.

Not caring for his trousers he sat down.  
"I really miss you. You know the other day Sherlock called me by your name, admittedly he have no idea who you are, but still he said yours and I couldn't reply. He goes for any name starting with a 'G', but keeps missing Greg." He looked away then back at the stone.

"Dammit Graham, why didn't you tell me, I could have helped, we’ve always looked after one another! I mean did you think I'd judged you? How could the drugs helped but I couldn't? Why lie? Just like Sherlock! Had least he is still alive. Mycroft still has a brother and me...?"  
Wiping a stray tear he stood up.

"Can you imagine the fun we could've had, especially with Sherlock? Like we used to do when we were young? The identical twins, no one could tell us apart, I miss those days of mischief."  
"Every day I think about you, every time I look in the mirror, I see your face, our face. Which by the way, doesn’t look to bad for our age?"  
He took a deep breath, and looked down at the stone.

"You left me alone, without my one true friend, and now all I have left is memories, and I guess that's what we inherit, after all is said and done."  
With a slow and heavy heart he turned around and walked away.

The sun light caught the writing in the gleaming sun.  
"Graham Lestrade. Loving son and brother."


	36. A good day

5.  
A good day

It was for moments like these that Greg really could sit back and relax. To take a breather as they say. 

Time to reflect on the past, contemplate the present, and plan for the future.   
His divorce was finalised, and in celebration or getting-away he decided on an impromptu holiday. 

So here he lay out in the sun. Next to a lovely beach side, with a big and colourful blanket. A big beach towel rolled up under his head. The big umbrella was on its side to cover his cooler box with the ice cold beer. He on the other hand wanted the sun; he wants to feel the rays tingling on his skin. 

He did put on some sun cream but is hoping for a tan.  
It was beautiful. It was peaceful. No dreary rainy London in sight, any bloody and unpleasant corpse and most importantly no annoying Genius Junkie.   
He hardly ever takes a holiday, so he is planning to fully enjoy this one.

Yes, he’s celebrating the end of one chapter of his life and is planning on making the most of the new one ahead. 

All in all, this is a good day.


	37. Connect the dots

6.  
Connect the dots

The movie was playing; Greg desperately wanted to show it to Mycroft  
It was called Hedwig and the angry inch’’, and it was brilliant in the sense it was so different, so ground-breaking that makes it a movie to watch at least once.   
When it came to the song he wanted he pressed paused. 

"Gregory?" Mycroft asked with a frown, he was quite absorbed in the film. Gregory got up and bends down to his knees in front of him.   
"I've done it."  
"Done what?"  
"I've connected the dots, and you may call me silly, but I believe we're destined, I knew the moment I heard this song, this few lines it will only make sense when you hear the full song, called Origin of love which I’ll play in a moment, but these lines, sums it up perfectly:   
Last time I saw you  
We had just split in two  
You were looking at me  
I was looking at you  
You had a way so familiar  
But I could not recognize  
Cause you had blood on your face  
I had blood in my eyes  
But I could swear by your expression  
That the pain down in your soul  
Was the same as the one down in mine  
That's the pain  
Cuts a straight line  
Down through the heart  
We called it love" 

He waited a moment, trying to get his emotions under control, before continuing.  
“Mycroft I know what you feel for me and what I feel for you is deeper than our hearts. It's connected in our souls. And remember whatever may happen, you would always be 'it' to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but this song reminded me of Mycroft and Greg. Had to use it


	38. The blank page

The blank page

 

Another year older. Greg sat at his desk; there was some a sparkly banner on top of his door with Happy Birthday written on it. He most certainly didn't feel like celebrating. Over fifty, alone and on top of that, he had a crush, an unrequited crush, which he is desperately trying to hide, or were trying. Not so easy when you're working with a certain Consulting Detective. 

 

Luckily he didn't figure out who his crush as, that be endlessly embarrassing. He would willingly dig his own hole to crawl into if that were to happen. 

He knew he should go outside to the break room and socialise, but he thinks the fact that he ordered one big cake for the whole team, should make up for it.

 

He would rather sit here, do paperwork and ignore the world. That is the plan anyway, until there was a knock at his door. 

"Come in. The cake any good? " he didn't even bother to look up.

"I wouldn't know, haven’t tried it." Mycroft answered with a smooth and calm face. Greg stared at the man in front of him. 

"Oh. Uhm… Mycroft, sorry about that. How can I help?" He sat back with a smile. 

"I came by to wish you a very happy and prosperous birthday for the year ahead. And to deliver your present."

"Present?" He leaned forward, smiling.  

"You didn't have to you know, although if it is a clone to do my paperwork I might reconsider."

"I'm afraid not. Only this." He handed him a big brown envelope. Perplexed he took it and opened it. Inside was a blank sheet of paper. Even more confused he took it out. 

"Uhm. Thanks? Is it Doctor Who physic paper?" He tried jokingly.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sat forward. 

"No." He looked at the door and for the first time, seemed uncomfortable. Greg waited a moment then softly encouraged him.

"Mycroft?"

"I've inquired to the appropriate gifts and so forth and apparently a gift card or tickets to a game are the most popular, but I was thinking, since you are not in a relationship, and the games are not to start for several months, I don't know where you shop...." 

"Really?" Greg asked amused. Mycroft sighed. 

"Fine, however I'm not going to give you a gift card for those places and the places I frequent do not have gift cards."

"Okay.... so what is this?"

"A blank page. A page that you can write your dreams, desires hopes and aspirations and I… I will do my best to help you achieve it."

 

Mycroft thawed a few layers of his ice man persona and hoped for the best. Trying his best to show Greg what he is trying to say, without actually saying it. This could be disastrous. Greg stared at him, reading the emotions, the hesitancy and his hearts skipped a beat, several in fact. After several minutes he swallowed. 

"Anything?”

“Yes.”

“What if it's a date?"

"I would be most accommodating." They looked at each other, a slow smile appearing on their faces. 

 

Greg loves his birthday a bit more than before.


	39. Awaken/ing

8\. Awaken/ing

 

Greg watched the commotion and activities with a smile on his face. Sherlock was back from the dead and was at this moment downstairs giving an interview. His trusted friend John with him. Mary and Mrs. Hudson along with Molly and her fiancé Tom was all discussing the wedding plans. Whose he wasn't sure of, either Mary or Molly’s. 

Oh great one of them is mentioning Lilac. Oh how he wanted to go home.  

 

To be honest he's not entirely sure why he was invited. It's not they were close. 

Used to be. 

Two years ago.  

 

"Ah here's the man of the hour!” Mrs. Hudson beamed at Sherlock as he came back into the room. He had a small smile around his lips, a certain contentment in his posture. Greg knew he was glad to be back. John too, he can't remember the last time he was so carefree. 

He looked around the flat.  

It's as if the life had come back into these people's lives.  

The women went on making plans and the men just listened in. Greg felt left out.   

It wasn't as he was ever really part of the small circle of trust that was Baker Street. Mary was now part because of John and Molly? Well she was in the ín’from the start. She helped Sherlock and therefore made herself indispensable.   

Greg; he was just the copper.  

 

Yes it was time to leave.  

He got up and took his glass to the kitchen and came out, picked up his coat. 

"Well it was nice to meet you Mary, and you Tom. All the best with the planning."

"You're leaving already Inspector?" Mrs Hudson asked. He smiled at her. 

"'Fraid so. Still have some paperwork left." With a nod he walked out. 

It was only downstairs that he realised Sherlock was following. 

"There's something going on between you and John?" Greg wasn’t surprised that he picked up on that, he kind of missed it.

"What makes you say that?"

"He didn't greet you and hardly acknowledge you in there."

Greg sighed and opened the door. 

"Don't worry about it Sherlock just enjoy being back. " Sherlock searched his face and then realisation hit.

"He blamed. ..."

"Stop. We'll talk some other time." Greg leaned into Sherlock with a smile. 

"You are like the dawn in their lives you know” 

Sherlock frowned. Greg smiled at his confused state.  

"Dawn as when you were gone, it was like winter, everybody just surviving and know you are back and it's like an awakening. You brought the summer. No one can stay angry at you for that."

With a sad smile he closed the door behind him.


	40. Write the darkness

 

9\. Write the darkness

 

Greg knew this was a bad idea. He hasn't drunk this much since his younger pre-marriage days. The drink till you drop and then drink some more phase. 

He was supposed to be a bit smarter now, especially for not having enough food in your system to help with the alcohol absorption.   

 

Right now he couldn't care less. 

If he cared any less he would be a level headed spoon. 

A big soup spoon of care...

He started laughing at the image his mind is creating.  

"A soup spoon of care"

He sat back and took a few more gulps of his beer. As soon as it was finished he threw the can with the rest of empties. A corner of empty cans. It’s starting to look like some weird art exhibition, all heaped up.

He should stop, he really should, but tonight he can't, didn’t want to. 

 

Sherlock is dead.

John hates him. 

Sally betrayed him 

Anderson was an arse and helped Sally. 

Mycroft is probably disappointed; after all he was supposed to look after his brother. Mycroft never actually said it, but the implications were there. 

He is suspended, and there's an inquiry into his work. His chances of getting his job, or title back is a very thinly balanced wire.

So tonight, he is going to wallow in self-pity and literary drown his sorrows, if he doesn't drown in alcohol first. 

He should probably call someone and talk to them, but he doesn't have anyone. "Maybe I should start a blog like John." He started having the hiccups.

"Oh, I'm really wasted." Shrugging he opened another can. 

He looked at the can as he brought it to his mouth. 

"Problem is, how do you write the darkness?”

 


	41. Radiant

. Radiant

 

It was bound to happen, running after Sherlock. Somewhere somehow he was bound to head first down some stairs, obstacles and end head over arse on the ground.  

Problem was he ended up not down the stairs but in the river Thames.   

In the dead of winter.   

In front of tourists and oh hell, tourists with lots of cameras. 

 

Which is why he is stuck in hospital under the highest care and observation, because not only did the pictures end up in a newspaper and the Yard is friendly coerced into guaranteeing his safety, after all he is a hero now...

Also he was in a relationship with the British Government, still at a secrecy stage but still he has ears and eyes everywhere. 

 

Apparently Sherlock fished him out of the river and in his state asked him to call Mycroft and blurted out some information that Sherlock was not aware of. 

He sighed. 

"That's going to be one hell of a conversation."

"What is?" A voice startled him from the doorway. Greg smiled could lit up the entire London.  

Mycroft dropped his ever present umbrella and walked over to Greg, grabbing his gown and kissed him, like his life dependent on it.  

"My?"

"Radiant." He whispered.  

"You're like the sun rays in a storm, absolutely radiant."


	42. I believe

11\. I believe.

"So Detective Inspector you're telling us, that Sherlock Holmes was innocent?"  
"Yes." He looked at the judge, he turned towards the people all around the room, and this was his inquest. A deep and thorough investigation into his cases. Into Sherlock's involvement with his cases.   
"So according to you, he did not invent the fictional identity of Mr. Moriarty? "  
"Moriarty is and was real. Sherlock was not a fake."  
"The evidence suggests..." Greg was getting impatient and angry his frustration showing and he did not even try to hide it or make excuses. 

"The evidence is wrong! Sherlock Holmes is... Was a great man, and there is nothing anyone in this room that can convince me otherwise. He was real; he was true and regardless of what happens here today I will believe in him. I believe in Sherlock Holmes.


	43. Five senses

 

12\. Five senses

 

Everybody has a sixth sense, whether you call it energy, vibes or a gut feeling. It's that born in instinct that tells you when something is wrong or not. 

Greg knew it, before Sherlock, he knew he just tried to ignore it and pretended that it was all okay.  

Once you’re in your bubble of safety and comfort you don’t really want to let it go.  

The problem is that his five senses caught up with his sixth and know he's trying to convince himself that your sixth sense should actually be your first. 

 

Sixth 

She's cheating. It's there in front of you. Wake up; you’re a detective for goodness sake. 

 

Eyes

She doesn't have a wedding ring tan, she was the whole weekend at Brighton for a conference, and she has a light tan, even underneath her wedding ring. 

 

Ears 

She changed the subject when you came in, she was on the phone laughing and the moment you stepped in to the room, she changed the subject.   

 

Nose 

She's wearing different perfume. You don’t recognise it; you can smell the money and posh-ness in it. That perfume cost money, you know it does. 

 

Taste 

Someone, oh you know who, would say there is now such thing, or scientific evidence but you know. Your wife taste different. When you kissed her, it was different. Her lips don’t taste like her.

 

Touch. 

This should be the biggest clue, she doesn't want you to touch her, oh she claims headaches, stress, that time of the month and who knows what else... 

 

All five senses plus your little voice, and you plead ignorance. 

Oh but Sherlock saw to that, didn’t he?

 

The front door opened and closed again. He waited in the dark. 

She walked in and put down her purse. He switched on the lights. 

"Hello darling. Had fun?"

"Greg! Oh you know. ..."

"Actually I don't. I've never cheated. 

“Oh before you say anything. The appointment with the divorce lawyers is tomorrow at 8." He got up and took his overnight bag.

"Sleep well. Darling. "


	44. Connection

13\. Connection

 

Greg was coming in the kitchen still half way asleep, he didn't even bother with a nightgown, as he assumed he would be alone. He did however put on some slippers. 

He walked towards the kettle with a yawn. 

 

"Slept well?” He practically jumped at the sound and turned around.  

Mycroft's father was sitting in the kitchen chair the newspaper in front of him and a cup of tea. 

"Oh! Sorry I didn't see you there."

"I've noticed. You’re still quite asleep."

"I've slept so well, didn't really felt like getting out of the bed, it was so comfortable and cosy, but My... I mean Mycroft likes his early cup when he wakes so I thought I'd come and make some."

"He must really love you if he lets you get away with calling him ‘My’." Greg blushed. 

Mycroft's father chuckled.  

"Would you like me to fill your cup again?" He tried to change the subject. 

"Please." He handed him his cup.

"Greg. I want to thank you."

"Thank me?" He asked confused.   

"For whom you are, and for what you mean to both my sons. Mycroft has told us some of the influence and the role you play in Sherlock's life, but most of all for how you love my son. We we're so worried that he would always be alone, but the way he looks at you, and how you looked at him... it fills me and my wife with such peace. The connection between the two of you, it’s a priceless gift." Greg swallowed and tried to hide his emotions he looked at him. 

"I love him, so much. And I promise I'll always look after him and loved him with my entire being."

"I know. Son."


	45. heart/head

 

14\. Heart/ head

 

People always are a little taken aback when they find out that Greg is in a relationship with Mycroft.

Yes to some because he's a man, but that happens very rarely, no, it's that it's Mycroft. 

Mycroft was so good at hiding who he really is and representing the image he wants the world to see, that they find it shocking that he is in a relationship with Greg. 

 

Mrs. Hudson smiled and clapped her hands together and exclaimed. 

"Oh! That's perfect. Always knew it, opposites attract."

And opposites they were. Two different sides of the spectrum coming together in the middle with perfect ease. They made it seems effortless, the compromise and the acceptance of their different personalities.  

 

One was nearly OCD; the other wouldn't care as long as it's there. 

One highly refined, the other would just do whatever he likes, regardless of people caring. 

One wouldn't mind getting dirty as he kicked a ball on a muddy field with his mates, the other would bring a year's supply of antiseptic gel and will even wear gloves as he stood next to the field supporting his partner. 

One would be rational and logical, the other emotional and hot-blooded. 

However no one can deny that when you observed them long enough that they are in perfect harmony with one another. 

 

One heart, one head; in perfect synchronisation. 


	46. childhood bedroom

. Childhood bedroom

Greg stood in the room. Trying to imagine how it would've look when Mycroft was a kid growing up.  
"This used to be your room?”  
"My childhood one yes."  
"Has it changed much, only I'm asking because I don't really imagine you with football and or supercar posters against your wall, or with porn hiding underneath your mattress?" Greg smirked and raised his eyebrows. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes.  
"Oh Lord, really Gregory?”  
"Hey it's a fair question."  
"Did you have posters like that?”  
He walked closer to Greg who immediately opened his arms.  
"Yes. Above my headboard was this amazing Lamborghini with its doors open and in the air. It was spectacular, and next to my wardrobe was a big Arsenal one with my favourite player. "  
"And the suggestive magazines.”  
"Under my mattress, just they weren't as suggestive as actually very demanding.” Mycroft gave a small laugh. 

"I had a big poster of the period table and under my bed was the latest version of national geographic. I was every bit the nerdy child you were warned about. "  
"That's so hot, and surprisingly not at all surprising. So tonight, will you be reading the latest development of global warming or whatever it is?"  
"Oh no, it think we're taking a page out of your room, with suggestive material.”  
"Demanding when you look at me like that."


	47. Words to live by

16\. Words to live by

 

Mycroft was tired, he and Sherlock had one hell of a fight, John refused to help, and he and Anthea struggled with some politicians, MP’s and dictators. It was one thing on top of the other.   

The proverbial saying of when it rains it pours was made for this week.   

And to make everything worse he hasn't spoken to Greg for the whole week, not a single syllable. 

 

Before, that would never have bothered him, now he needs the constant reassurance and support of that man. He craves it. 

That would change tonight. He and Greg have an arrangement. Once a week regardless of work they would spend a minimum of an hour together to just be.

Be together 

Be silent 

Be supportive 

To just be.

He poured himself a drink and walked towards his room. He stopped. 

 

On the bed was Greg waiting patiently, the bed side lamps were on, soft music on the stereo.

"Gregory?"

"Hi. Heard you had a tough week? "

"It was horrible." 

"I'm a little tired of speaking.”

"Then don't. Not to me, not tonight. "

"What we haven't spoken in a week.”

"And that's ok. Mycroft you love me and I love you, and we don't always have to talk to have quality time. Don't waste those beautiful mouth and words from your mouth to someone who can't appreciate your silence as well. I love your words and your silence. Sometimes it's the most powerful conversation you can have. Come here and let me hold you."

Mycroft did that, he climb on top of the bed and made himself comfortable in Greg's arm. 

"That's some pretty strong words to live by.”

 

"You in my life and your silence is much more powerful.”

 


	48. Once upon a time

17\. Once upon a time

It was Sherlock's one year anniversary of his death, and things weren't that much better. Greg stood at the graveyard and lit up a cigarette.   
"You know I still can't believe it's been a year. To think there was once upon a time you showed to me what a great and good man you were. Remember when you baby sat for me?"

 

"Dimmock?" Greg stood in the doorway to his colleague's office.   
"I'm sorry. I need to go out to supervise the Daniels crime scene. Did you try Sally?"  
"Yeah, she's out on a routine check."  
"What happened?”  
"My brother in law was in an accident and my sister had to go to the emergency and I'm the godfather who has to step up."  
"But i have to go out with the fraud squad and it's not like I can take her with."  
"Ouch, hey maybe you should try Eckhart, she's on paperwork for the night, I'm sure your niece can sit with her and draw or something.”  
"Thanks. I'll go and ask. "   
Greg left the office and walked back to his. He opened the door in surprise. Sherlock was there sitting in his chair and his niece was sitting on his desk. They were drawing.   
"Hi guys."  
"Uncle Greg!" She exclaimed and held out her hands for him to pick up. Smiling he did.  
"What are you guys doing?”  
"Drawing the plans for your building?”  
"My building?”  
"The Yard. And all the escape routes." Sherlock answered in a bored tone. Greg rolled his eyes.   
"Are you leaving again?"  
"I'm going to have to cancel my plans, and then we can go do something.”  
"You have to go out with the squad didn't you?” Sherlock asked. Greg nodded.   
He looked at his niece and Sherlock followed. Give me a cold case, two, and I'll stay here. With her." Greg stared. 

 

"Thank you Sherlock. I don’t think I've ever told you how much that meant to me, but you knew didn't you. You, who see everything, I miss you, you bastard. She still asks me about you. "


	49. I have a dream

18\. I have a dream

 

It was after ten, and the rain was hitting with a fierce force against the windows of Greg's office. His light was the only one on, all the others were out. 

There was three heads bended over the table, multiple pages and photos laid out.  

Half full mugs with gone cold coffee in a half triangle on top.  

 

"This is ridiculous, how are we going to find out what links them." Sally growled while trying to rub out the tiredness from her eyes. 

"It has to be somewhere in the childhood, probably at primary school." Greg said as he followed her example and lay back in his chair, he stretched his neck and his arms, a feeble attempt to get some life back in it.  

"I found both Smith's fingerprints in the hallway and inside the office." Anderson shuffled the photos around.  

"Agh! We could be home, sleeping now, dreaming of cocktails and beach holidays." Sally exclaimed. Greg picked up his mug and look at the contents. He grimaced. 

"Yeah, now we're daydreaming of finding a link, which we need to find."

"Maybe we should go home and sleep on it?" Anderson tried hopefully, looking at his watch. 

Sally and Greg looked at him. 

"I have a dream that we should get better coffee." Sally said as she eyed the mugs. 

"Oh, we all have a dream, I have a dream but it's got nothing to do with this case. So maybe we should just go home and tomorrow look at it with fresh eyes."

"That's a dream come true." Sally smiled as she got up and picked up her jacket.


	50. Out my window

19\. out my window

 

Mycroft sat at the small restaurant with his parents. It was just after another play and he took them out for some late night coffee.  

"That was a lovely play wasn't it?" His mother commented as she took another sip.

"Yes it was Mummy." He replied while trying not to look at the lovely display of confectionary. If Greg was here he would insisted they get something and share it. Unfortunately Greg had to work late, and missed the play.  

 

He was so distracted that he didn't hear his mother's question.

"Mike!" 

"My apologies. What were you saying? "

"Your dad and I were wondering if you heard from dear Greg, you seemed a bit distracted. Missing him? "

"No, he hasn't called. I do seem to missing him, it's quite bothersome."

"It's sweet." Before he could answer his phone rang.

"Gregory, we were just discussing you."

"Tell him I say hi" his mother interrupted. 

"Mummy says hi."

"Tell her I say hi as well." Greg smiled.

"What are you guys doing?”

"Having a late night coffee here at that place we both liked."

"Oh that's good, listen do me a favour, I heard there was some commotion down that street, could you maybe have a look outside your window and check?”

"Of course." He frowned and turned around to have a look outside his window. Greg took the opportunity to sneak to their table with some flowers, he placed his finger to his lips and indicated to Mycroft's parents to be quiet.  

"I do think your source is unreliable, the street is quiet." 

“Oh well my bad." Mycroft twisted around at the voice; Greg had bent down to be eye level with Mycroft.  

"Gregory?!"

"Hello Love. Missed me?" Forgetting his parents at the table he smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Greg chuckled as he kissed back.


	51. Good fortune

20\. Good fortune

Greg stood in the morgue looking at the two dead bodies’ on the table. Molly was busy with printing and getting all the information together for him.  
"You know Inspector they didn't have to die. They were well off, but they were a bit too greedy. "  
"You know there's a reason why they consider greed one of the seven deadly sins." Greg walked over where she sat at the desk.   
She smiled at him as she collected the papers and put it in a file.   
"My father once said, the rich go cheap to stay rich. I always wondered what he meant until this case." Greg took the papers and nodded.  
"Your father was a smart man. People today get so used to the hustle and race of life to stay on top, to be the best, that they forget to be thankful for the little things."   
Molly stood up and together they walked out.  
"Absolutely, I mean they had money, both had excellent high paying jobs, they were in great health and still they go to the extreme."  
"Sometimes you just have to take inventory in your life and realise how lucky we are to be just alive. To appreciate the good fortune of just having a roof over your head and a meal in your stomach."


	52. Balm for the soul

21\. Balm for the soul

"Lestrade!" Greg practically fell out the bed.  
"What the hell!" Switching the light on, he turned to the door. There in his doorway stood Sherlock, wide awake with his coat and eyes alight.   
"Sherlock what hell are you doing here? What time is it?”  
"1 o'clock." Sherlock answered and took a step forward.   
Greg groaned and fell back on the bed.  
"Please tell me there's a reason for waking me up in person instead of your usual call?"  
"I was bored."  
"Bored!"   
"You heard me." Greg took a moment to remind him that yes he was a cop and no, he cannot kill, punch or hurt him.  
Sherlock just kept standing in doorway.   
Greg looked up at him.   
"How did you get in?”  
"Window."  
"Did you close it behind you?"  
"Yes."  
"Did you just decided to come here or were you in the neighbourhood?”  
"I was in Vauxhall." Greg closed his eyes. Last time Sherlock was there he was getting drugs, the fact that he was here, safe and sound and clean, was like a balm for his soul. Not only didn't he get drugs, he also came to him. How do you stay angry with that?   
"You hungry or thirsty?”  
"No."  
"Then take off your coat, and your shoes and get over here.  
"I'm not sleeping with you." He replied while he took off his coat.  
"Don't be daft. You can sit here and go over the files for my latest case." Greg pulled a file out of his bedside drawer. Sherlock went to the other side of the bed and climb on top. He crossed his legs - his shoes next to the bed and opened it up.   
Greg looked through his drawer and took out a packet of digestive biscuits; he placed it next to Sherlock and laid back down. 

It was about 20 minutes before he fell asleep again, a smile on his face. Sherlock didn't do drugs.


	53. A room of one's own

22\. A room of one's own

Greg stood with his bags at the small bed and breakfast in Baskerville, they were unsure of whether there was a room available. He kind of insisted, because there is absolutely no way he was bunking with Sherlock and John.   
If the British Government sent him to babysit, then he sure as hell can make sure he gets his own room.   
The man walked up towards him  
"Detective Inspector, I apologise for the waiting, it seems as your room was already booked."  
"Already booked? By whom?" He was surprised, he most certainly didn't call ahead to book a room. Then he sighed.   
Oh of course.   
Mycroft was so sure that he would just jump at his command and booked a room.  
"It doesn't say sir, however it is the en suite, which is also our best room.   
"Of course it is."  
"Pardon?”  
"Never mind, may I please get the room key?"  
"Of course sir, here you go. Please enjoy your stay. "  
"Making no promises, thank you." With that he picked up his bag and went to his room.   
After all, everybody needs a room of one's own.


	54. seek wonder

 

23\. Seek wonder

 

It's no secret that everybody at some point in their lives have a danger night. Everyone we know goes through something horrible and terrible in their lives. 

 

The fact is, that if you live long enough, life happens to you. Sometimes it is unfair and completely wrong, but that's how it is. What's that saying: oh yes. ‘That's the way the cookie crumbles.’ Greg whispered in the abandoned house. He doubts they will be able to sell it, not after what happened here.   

So he continued to sit, a small silver flask of whiskey in his hand. The crime scene tape was still everywhere, some parts fluttering where the draft was coming in, the white tape and chalk still on the floor. He really shouldn't be here. 

Sometime later the front door opened and someone stepped in. He could see the straight posture from the doorway, someone followed after the first one. Another straight posture with a long and posh coat. He recognised it immediately. 

"Hi guys." One switched on the lights. Mycroft and Sherlock stood there in front of him, one worried, one well he tried to look bored but was failing. Greg let it go. 

"Gregory what are you doing here?" Mycroft asked as he stepped closer and sat down next to Greg on the stairs. 

He shrugged. 

Mycroft gently took the flask and handed it to Sherlock. 

“A whole family Myc, a whole family killed because the father didn't like the wife or children. How..."

"Shh." Mycroft grabbed his hands and started to rub some heat into them.

"You see when everyone else fails to look." Sherlock commented after a while. Greg looked at him confused. He continued. 

"Mycroft can tell you how futile sentiment and caring is, however I do think his trying to convince himself with spectacular failure. Certainly when it comes to you. You were the only detective ever to look beyond the drugs. It's your nature to seek wonder when there's none. You can't let this case take that away. If you lose your mind, where will I find new cases?"

Mycroft sighed, but Greg started laughing softly. 

They turned at him.  

"Thanks Sherlock. And for the record I like you too."


	55. My favourite thing

24\. My favourite thing

 

"This is it." Greg whispered.

"What's that? And why are you whispering?" Mycroft asked as he made himself more comfortable in Greg's arms.

"This." He replied. "Holding you."

"Holding me is your favourite thing?" 

"Yes. In the entire world, this is the most awesomenessist thing ever."

"There's no such word. Gregory. "

"Shh My. I just made it up and I'm putting a copyright on it."

"As you wish." Mycroft said as he looked up into Greg's face, with one hand he gently caress the stubby cheek. 

 

"Thought I lost you." He softly whispered. Greg held tighter. 

"I love you. Moments like these where I get to hold you, and both of us are raw and exposed to one another, no masks, no pretending. Just us. It's my favourite thing in the world. That's when I know that the world can have wonder and magic and happily ever after stories." Mycroft swallowed and buried his face in Greg's neck. 

 

"You make me believe.” Mycroft replied as he held on to Greg.  

They laid there in silence as their heart rating eased out, he was sure Greg was asleep when he whispered.

“I love you. Always and forever." Greg retorted

"Always and forever.”


	56. Left unsaid

 

25\. Left unsaid

 

Greg stood staring at the marble stone. What a coincidence that Sherlock is buried in the same cemetery as his brother.  

"The universe is rarely so lazy." He said as he stared. It was one of Sherlock's favourite sayings, among ‘idiot’ and 'obviously'.

 

"Gregory?" He turned around to the voice. Mycroft was standing there looking at him and the name on the stone. Greg could see the wheels turning until realisation set in. He answered anyway. 

"Graham was my twin brother. Younger by seven minutes. He died when we were twenty. Drug overdose."

"Oh God. I'm sorry." 

"You know he told me he was clean, getting his life in order and I believed him, week later I found him, needle still stuck, he did it between his toes, so as to hide the scars."

They stood in silence. 

"I'm not trying to get common ground or tell you that old line of 'I know how you feel' but then again we are kind of in the same boat, we’ve both lost our younger brothers. The last man standing. We we're so worried about drugs, didn’t even think about...” Greg voice broke off.

Between hidden sobs and choked laughter Mycroft could make out the words 'arrogant bastard'. He couldn't reply, he couldn't say what he knew as the truth. Sherlock was not dead. It was one of the hardest things he had to do. To watch this man, who saved his brother so many times mourn for a man who is not even dead. He was still standing long after Greg left, staring at the marble stone.   

 

He couldn't apologise, he couldn't say a thing. 

So he left.

Thinking about all the things that's left unsaid


	57. Sweet light

26\. Sweet light

 

"It shouldn't be too long." Sally said as she wrapped her jacket tighter around her body.

"Yeah, hopefully just in time before we freeze to death." Greg replied as he did the same and also took out his gloves. He looked at her.  

"We should also pull our collar up; it will preserve more heat that way, as it covers our neck, apparently there is some organ or something that is quite sensitive."

She looked at him with some scepticism. 

"Are you having me on?"

"No seriously, there was a documentary on telly, people who covered their necks had a higher survival risk."

"You sounded like the freak there for a moment." He laughed. 

"Maybe he's rubbing off."

"Oh God no. One is enough." She sat down in the corner next to him.  

 

She gave him peeked from underneath her eye lashes.

"At least you were sensible and chose the Holmes with manners."

He grinned. 

"Small mercies then hey." They sat in silence. After a while he grabbed her arm.

"They will find us sooner, or Mycroft will."

"How'd you know?"

"Well he likes to know what's going on and after he won't get hold of me, he'll come looking, besides we we're supposed to have dinner at 8."

"It's 7:30 now."  

"Just a little patience then." 

"Yeah, can't believe they got one over us, and now we are locked in a freezer. It's so cold." Greg looked at her, she has started shaking. He really hoped Mycroft will find them soon. 

"Come here, we stand a better chance to preserve heat if we're close." Greg said as he opened his coat again and pulled her closer. The coat went halfway around her, but it was enough for them to reserve body heat.

 

They must have fallen asleep during the night. By early morning they were both shivering and we're half asleep. Greg thought he must have imagined it, cause he heard a noise. He was too cold, too tired to call out. He couldn't move. He must have been hallucinating because he could've sworn that the door just opened. 

"Gregory!?" He heard a strangled voice. 

"My...” he tried to choke out, but was only a soft mumble.  

 

He was aware of hands taking Sally from him, and noises. Someone was laying him down on a stretcher, wrapping him in a soft fluffy blanket. He became aware someone was holding his hand and he gripped tighter. 

 

Once outside he could see it was dawn and looked at Mycroft.   

He saw the tension, the relief and the worry in his eyes and he smiled trying to reassure him. It worked a little and Mycroft smiled back, his eyes were filled with tears but he held back. Before he lost consciousness he could only think of one thing. 

"Those blue eyes, oh what sweet light."

 


	58. Mitten strings

27\. Mitten strings

"Have you seen my mitten strings?" Greg looked at Mycroft like he grew an extra head.  
"Sorry Love what?"  
"My mitten strings. I could've sworn it was with my black mittens in the drawer, but it’s not and I need it." Mycroft continued to look through the drawer and after that moved on to the next one.   
Greg was still standing there perplexed.   
"Your mitten strings? The strings that connect your mittens, not gloves, mittens? "  
"Yes." Mycroft stood up and turned to Greg.   
"You seem perplexed."  
"I am. Not only do I discover you have mittens, but actual mitten strings as well."  
"It came together when I bought it."  
"May I ask why you bought mittens?"  
"I bought it when I was in Poland, it would've been rude not to." Gregory started laughing.   
"What is so hilarious if I may enquire?”  
Greg walked closer and picked up the mittens.   
"I've never seen you with these and I take you for a glove man."  
"I prefer gloves, however one of my meetings today is with someone from Poland and I wanted to show him I am using the mittens."  
"So strategic planning and advantage?"  
"That's very blunt."  
"Still true. Put it on."  
"Gregory..."  
"Please?" With a sigh he quickly put it on his hands and gave a wave at him. Greg grabbed his hands and put it against his cheeks.   
"That feels so good." Leaning closer Mycroft gave him a kiss.   
"My dear, are you developing a mitten fetish?"  
"Only on your hands."


	59. Leap

 

28\. Leap

Greg stood in front of the ambulance and watched as Sherlock and John walked away. Smiling and giggling like two school children. 

He was watching as they talked to Mycroft and then went on their merry way.  

Mycroft turned around and looked at him. Sighing he started walking towards him.  

He quickly looked at Sally. 

"Donovan, as soon as everything is collected we can pack up and go, let’s make it quick all right?"

"Sure thing."  

Mycroft looked quite relaxed as Greg reached him. 

"Detective Inspector." 

"Mycroft. Looks like your brother just got an instant best mate."

"Does look that way, doesn’t it?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong or being a standard idiot, but that best mate just shot my serial killer didn’t he?"

Mycroft lifted his eyebrows and faked surprise. 

"That's quite a leap, don't you think?”

"I'm still right. Does he have a permit for the gun?"

They stared at each other for a while; even Anthea stopped typing and observed them. Finally Mycroft looked away and the barest hint of a smile on his lips. 

"You know detective, you’re a lot smarter my brother gives you credit for."

"And you're a lot nicer he gives you credit for. Still I’m right and asking again, does our mutual acquaintance new best mate have a permit for his non existing gun?"

"He does now."

With one last smile Greg turned and walked back to his crime scene


	60. Leap of faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This promp is not a part of the original 365 day prompt, but since it's a leap year this one was added.

29\. Leap of faith  
There was always the chance that it was going to backfire, in a spectacular way.   
Which it did. 

He should've known to ask someone like Mycroft to consider going out on a date would be too much. Even though he knew that Mycroft liked him a little more than other people he wasn't the type to date. It's been two weeks, since he asked him out, and at least lucky for him, Sherlock haven't found out.   
He was an idiot.   
Well no use to cry over spilt milk as they would say, time to go home.   
With that he gathered his things and left for home. 

It was after 10 when he left, and decided against the tube, and walked home.   
When he finally got home he instantly realised something was wrong. He opened his door to find soft music playing, a soft piano.   
"Hello?" He tried as he walked deeper into the house. As he entered the living room he stopped. He was completely flabbergasted.   
The lights were on dim and the table was set with an amazing looking dinner. At the side was Mycroft in his suit, but without the tie and jacket. His sleeves were rolled up.   
"Good evening Inspector." Greg was still speechless as he just stood there. Mycroft smiled and walked closer. As soon as he stood in front of him he took hold of his coat lapels and pushed it off his shoulders.   
"Dinner is waiting." Greg allowed him to remove his coat and jacket.   
"What's this?" He finally uttered.   
"Dinner."  
"Mycroft?" Mycroft sighed and stood in front of him.   
"I don't do this, I’m worse than my brother when it comes to people. What I do, I've learned how to use. I don't think I know how to be real or let the persona go." Greg took a deep breath and visually relaxed; he noticed Mycroft did the same.   
"Can I touch you or will a whole team of ninjas make me disappear?" He rolled his eyes.   
"They are off duty. You may."  
Greg slowly placed his hand on Mycroft heart; he took Mycroft's hand and placed it on his.  
"I'm just an old copper, with one divorce on his name, you know my life's story, probably better than I do, but as long as this is real, our heartbeats, and we are honest with one another, and by honest I mean that you don’t lie to me if you can't discuss your work. Say you can't or it's not my business. Keep me in the dark but with a light on. If we can do this I don't see why we can't at least try to see where this goes."  
They stood for a while, each other's hand on their hearts. Finally Mycroft broke the silence.   
"I like to cook, whenever I get the chance, hence the dinner." Greg smiled.   
"That's fortunate because I like to eat."  
"Shall we?" Mycroft held out his free hand towards the table.   
Greg smiled and took Mycroft's hand that was against his heart, he gave it a small kiss.   
"We shall."


	61. Verdant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious , the number in front of the title is the representing the day of the month the prompt is for.   
> Like today it says 1. Verdant meaning I'm posting the 1st one of March. That means I'm almost on track!

1\. Verdant

"So you grew up in the country?" Greg stated as he stood in the drive way. They were visiting his Mycroft’s parents. The house faced a big field, and it was so open and well.... green.  
"Yes. I've told you this before Gregory."  
"I know you did, but this is different." Greg replied with a smile. Mycroft stood up straight where he was unloading their bags.  
"Different? What on earth do you mean? I told you Sherlock and I grew up in the country side, and our parents still live here."  
"No I know that. I don’t know, I think I expected something like a remote mansion with a stable and with ‘Mazarin legend" as the fourth race champion in a row."   
Mycroft burst out laughing, Greg stood dumb struck at his partner actually trying to wipe tears as he laughed. He couldn't help but to join in.  
"Mazarin legend?"  
"Do you prefer something like 'Silver Blaze'?" He asked as he stepped closer.   
"On the contrary, if we had horses and they would participate in races, I hoped we could have come up with something more distinguished."  
"Oi, what's wrong with my names?"   
They were standing there laughing and joking that neither saw Mycroft’s parents walking towards them. Each with huge smiles as they saw their eldest laughing like that.   
"Are you two planning on coming in?"  
Mycroft looked up in surprise.   
"Mummy! Father." He walked towards them, giving them a hug and kiss. Greg stood watching with a fond look.   
"Mummy, Father I would like to introduce you to Gregory." Greg walked closer and was immediately embraced by Mummy.   
"Welcome. But before we go in, I must ask why my son was laughing in such a carefree manner?" Greg blushed and started explaining. When he was finished they all laughed.   
"My silly boys, let's go in and have some tea."  
Mycroft's father helped with the bags and right before they entered the house Greg said.  
"No wait, I got it, looking around I’ve decided. "Verdant oasis"


	62. Sojourn

2\. Sojourn

Greg was enjoying his time off. The divorce was finalised and he took a little impromptu holiday to Paris. He was having fun; he did a whole country side backpacking tour -just with a car and several bags.  
For the first time in a long time he was having fun, and relaxing to the full.  
So of course it had to end with a call from none other than that of the British Government. The British Government. Who also goes by the alias of Mycroft Holmes.  
"Gregory...."  
"No." He said before Mycroft could finish. He could hear the surprise on the other side.  
"Excuse me?"  
"You heard. It's my holiday Mycroft. I don’t care what your brother did now."  
"It's not a holiday, it’s an impromptu getaway to celebrate or mourn the loss of your marriage."  
"Doesn't matter. It's still me time. I'm even getting a tan."  
"And I'm sure you wear it well. However the situation is quite dire and I need you to step in."  
"Fine. But you're paying for the airline ticket. For interrupting my little sojourn le Paris."  
“Sojourn is English, if you want me to translate for you..."  
"How do you translate arrogant bastard and scary ninja older brother?"  
It was quiet for a while. Finally Mycroft just said.  
"All is paid for your swift arrival. Oh and one more thing. It's: bâtard Arrogant effrayant grand frère ninja."  
Greg burst out laughing as he hang up.


	63. Return

3\. Return

Mycroft was sitting in his office chair, a half empty glass of brandy next to him. He convinced himself that he was working and doing paperwork, however his heart was telling him something else. He was worried.  
Really worried.  
He couldn't help it, years of pain and suffering from being rejected by those around him, have instilled such a deep scar that even now years later he was still trying to get over it.  
Thoughts of Gregory.  
His Gregory who was on a date with a European heartthrob.  
Yes. They have been dating for only a few months, and yes it was for an undercover assignment, but he couldn't shake the feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem.  
He was not as handsome or attractive as the target, he wasn't as social integrated as the man, he struggled with people skills, was known to be cold hearted. The ice man nickname was there for a reason.  
What Gregory sees in him he'll never know, which is why this assignment was so difficult for him.  
Although it was his idea.  
It was already after eleven, so the date was over or nearly over, they would be... be what? Kissing? Connecting? He groaned and swallowed the whole glass.  
He got up to refill when the door opened.  
It was Anthea.  
"The mission was a huge success."  
Mycroft could feel his knee going weak. It’s what he wanted, a success, but at what cost. Before he could answer someone walked into the room. 

Gregory

"Hi Anthea." He walked towards Mycroft.  
"Hello Love." His voice was soft and his smile radiant.  
Anthea smiled and left them alone.  
"Gregory, I just received the report that it was a success.”  
"Yes. I don't mind helping you with your work, but I'm so glad it's over."  
"You are?"  
"Of course, couldn’t wait to see you. To go home with you."  
"With me? But the target." Greg saw right through him, his feelings and the doubts and decided to take action. He kissed Mycroft like his life dependent on it.  
"Myc. It's you I love. And I will always return to you."


	64. laissez les bon temps rouler

4\. Laissez les bon temps rouler

"Gregory, I think it would be more feasible if I were to support you with this at a more detailed and secured environment." Mycroft declared as he looked around, his face set, posture rigid and straight forward. He was going for his best and most effective intimidating techniques, which is unfortunate, since it doesn't seem to work. Greg was having a face-splitting grin on his face and Mycroft’s words were just rolling of his back.   
"Feasible? Detailed? Secured environment? Wow you can lay it on thick when needed. Shall I try? Well my humble man, it's regrettable that I must inform you of the misguided attempt to - what's the words - seek a strategic course of action and that you my good sir will participate in this junction." He leaned back; arms crossed looking very smug and self-assured. Mycroft rolled his eyes. 

Before he could reply Greg took hold of his shoulders.   
"I know you've never done this, but you will be fine, it will be fun, you just need to relax and enjoy the ride."  
"Fall, technically. "  
"Fine, the fall. I'll hold you the whole way."  
"We are being tied together with an elastic rope and being thrown off a bridge."  
"Highly strong and specialised rope and we're jumping, not being thrown off."  
"You guys ready?" The attended asked.   
"No."  
"Yes."   
"Well you need to go in a minute, counter is counting.... now."  
They looked at the small clock. Greg could feel Mycroft tensed up and wrapped him in his arms. He held on tight as Mycroft buried his face in his neck.  
"I'll make it up to you Love."  
"Just keep holding me."  
"I'm never letting go."  
They waited until it was ten seconds before Greg yelled "Laissez les bon temps rouler!


	65. Growing

5\. Growing

"You want me to what?"  Mycroft stared at Greg like he just revealed he was an alien from some distant galaxy.  Greg stared back.

"Call. Text.  Write.  Hell, sent a dove if needs must."  He frowned a bit as he realised what he said. 

"Needs must?" Mycroft tried to clarify, the smallest hint of a smile on his mouth. 

"I meant 'if you have to'." 

“I must say your vocabulary has improved with a reasonable amount since we solidified our relationship."

"Piss off.  Don't change the subject."

"Ah yes.  There’s the Gregory I know, with his creative language.  You want me to keep in touch?"

"Please."

"Very well.  I'll try to keep you informed of my whereabouts." He looked down. 

"I'm not used to this Gregory.   I've never had to give account of my activities before. "

"It's not an account Love.  I understand that this whole thing is new.  Just as you worry about me when you can't get hold of me, so I worry, really worry about you too and just want to know that you're okay."

Mycroft gave a small nod and then hugged him.  Greg started laughing.  

"You see!  This.  My vocabulary, you’re opening up it's all just marvellous.  We're growing."

"Marvellous?"

"Piss off."


	66. Ordinary blessings

6\. Ordinary blessings

It was a truly beautiful day. It was the beginning of summer and the forecast was of sunshine and warmth.   
On top of that it was a very lazy and relaxing Sunday afternoon. The park was reasonably full of people; however Greg found a little corner around some bushes and hedges that half separated them from the public's eye.   
This was the only way he could convince Mycroft to join him.  
That and an umbrella, and shade.  
So here they were, on a big soft blanket, a picnic basket in one corner with snacks and of course cold wine. They were resting against a tree or Greg's back was, Mycroft was spread out on the blanket, his head resting on his partner's lap.   
Not a phone or book in sight. They were just relaxing, with the occasional conversation, both too lazy to really put much effort in it. An "Hmmmm" and “Aaah" being the standard way of replying.   
Sometimes you just have to be thankful for the ordinary blessings in life, because really, it’s hardly ordinary.


	67. Self / discovery

7\. Self /discovery

“Are your eyes closed?” Mycroft asked as he led Greg by the hand.   
“Yes. My eyes are closed, and not only that, you tied a scarf around my neck, which I have several comments and opinions about, but I’m not sure if we are alone, or if the environment is secure.”  
“We are in my house, we’ve been alone this entire weekend, it’s one of the most secure places in London, and we are most definitely alone.  
“Good.” They continued walking throughout the house and Mycroft led him outside.  
“Gregory, out of curiosity, what would your comments and opinion entail, if we weren’t alone?”  
“Oh I definitely would’ve made some remarks about your taste in accessories and how inappropriate you are using them, aren’t you afraid it’s going to wrinkle?”  
“Yes it’s my number one concern at the moment, not the fact that you obviously have some ideas regarding my scarves.”  
“Hmm. How much further.”   
“Almost there.” They continued till they reach the side of the house. Next to the wall was a brand new motorbike, black and red. Mycroft went and stood behind him and slowly he started to untie the scarf.  
“Keep your eyes closed.”  
“Ok.” Mycroft completely removed the scarf.  
“You may look.” Greg opened his eyes. He stared at the bike in awe.  
“It’s …. But…. When….how…” Mycroft stepped up and gave him a quick kiss.  
“I’ve recently had a self-discovery, I love riding on a motorbike with you, and then I made the discovery that I not only loved riding a bike with you, but that I want to continue doing so, in the comfort of a bigger, more accommodating bike than the one you currently have, especially if we are to go away for several days at once.”  
Greg stared and listened.  
“Like a road trip, you, me, the clothes on our back and the open road?”  
“A small luggage bag , maybe two at most.”

The kiss he received was well worth the effort of buying matching leather.


	68. Far away

8 far away

Greg looked around, it was a small seaside town, and he could hear the waves crashing in the distance. No one knew him here, who he is, what he did, or where he is going. He preferred it that way.  
Sighing he started the bike and followed the little dirt road down towards the small bed and breakfast at the seaside. Parking the bike next to the open space against the wall he placed his bag over one shoulder and went to the front door.  
With small steady hands he knocked on the glass. A small, old man opened the door.  
“Can I help you?”  
“Good day sir, I was wondering if you have any rooms available?”  
“You from the city lad?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Well, don’t just stand there come in, you must be tired. We don’t get many visitors down here. You can choose any room, no wait I’ll give you the corner one, lovely view, sea on one side, and the country next to it. You’ll love it.” Greg smiled as he followed the man inside. He needed this, sometime away, far away.   
London and its drama can wait.


	69. Sunrise sunset

9\. sunrise/sunset

Greg stared out the window, the view clouded with spots and stains of bygone time against the glass. He had a good view, when he thinks about it. Almost a birds eye – a small bird perhaps. Hospitals weren’t that high in London.   
Still he can see most of the city down below. The London Eye, high and proud in the distance. Tower Bridge overlooking the coming and going on the river below. People running around, everyone has somewhere to be. Something to do.   
And here he sat. Alone. There was a body in the bed, but it was sleeping, comatose doesn’t sound as peaceful. It was a lucky shot. The shooter caught Mycroft when he least expected it, when the threat were minimal. It was annoying.   
Mycroft’s parents were on their way, Sherlock was helping Anthea to catch the shooter. Greg was waiting for Mycroft to wake up. He was the next of kin.   
Greg sighed and gently picked up the hand on the bed. With slow and gentle touched he caressed the long, slender fingers.   
“You have to wake up Myc. We’ve come too far to stop now.” The bed was silent. He turned back to look at the sky.  
“The day is almost over. You should see the sunset Myc. It looks different from up here than down below. You can actually see the rays, reflecting on the river. It’s beautiful, but you waking up, would be even more beautiful. Please My, as much as I love watching the sunset with you, I need you to be awake to watch it with me. I would embrace a thousand sunsets, as long as I have every sunrise with you too.”


	70. In the mirror

10\. in the mirror

Greg knew it was time for drastic actions. He could see how the latest insult and childish comment from Sherlock got to Mycroft. He was withdrawn and he wasn’t eating as he normally did. Desperate times, desperate measures.   
He waited till Mycroft was asleep before he started his plan. He took a black marker and went to Mycroft’s wardrobe. He had a full length mirror on one side of the wall. Smiling he started drawing.  
Greg was still asleep when Mycroft woke up the next morning; he went through his usual routine until he walked into the wardrobe and stopped. He stared. He frowned and then finally he smiled. He walked closer to the mirror to inspect the artwork up close and personal. Greg had drawn a life-size figure of him, with lines to different parts and a small sentence with each. It looked like one of those anatomical diagrams. He started at the bottom. 

Feet  
This is my partner’s feet, it carries him to wherever he needs to be, which is usually right next to the person who needs him the most. (Sherlock and me. Me mostly)

Legs.  
This is his legs. Absolutely perfect and gorgeous legs, it goes on for miles, and is the perfect road trip for me to kiss. The favourite part is when it’s locked around me. ;)

Hips  
This is very over 18’s only, and contains the most amazing and firm arse I’ve ever had the gift of knowing. (And other parts, come ask me for a detailed analysis My)

Torso.  
It contains his heart, his big and beautiful heart, that not only keeps him alive – go heart go! It’s also the perfect lullaby to guarantee me the perfect and safest nights rest. It also houses the most beautiful galaxies of freckles. My own universe. 

Arms.  
These are the amazing arms that holds me when I’m down, comforts me after a hard day, wipes my tears when it’s getting too much. These arms are my shield from the world. (Stunning fingers and hands, oh so flexible, more detailed description is available)

Neck  
This part keeps that beautiful smart brain on the body. Also contains the perfect pulse point for me to kiss.

Head.  
Oh sonnets and paragraph cannot compare to this. This mirror most certainly is way too small. The eyes, the mouth, oh my soul, that mouth... (Come see me Myc!)

This man in the mirror is mine. My Mycroft and no matter how big he is – or thinks he is – he is perfect for me. 

PS. You’re perfect for me My. Love you.


	71. Underneath

11\. Underneath

“Gregory?” No answer. Mycroft frowned; he knows Greg was at home, his coat was hanging. His jacket was over the back of the sofa chair, and his flat was quite small. No matter where you stood in Greg’s flat, you can hear if someone was at the front door. Maybe he’s sleeping? Just then the sound of cutlery could be heard. Smiling he put down his case and took of his jacket. He made his way towards the kitchen.   
In the doorway he stopped. Greg was making dinner but he had headphones on, and he was dancing. And singing.   
He listened to the lyrics:  
“Underneath your clothes,  
there’s an endless story,   
There’s the man I chose  
There’s my territory   
And all the things I deserve for being such a good girl”

Mycroft folded his arms and waited until Greg noticed him, which didn’t took him long at all.  
“My!” He exclaimed as he removed the headphones.  
“What are you singing?” Mycroft asked as he kissed his partner.  
“Shakira. It’s a good song. Nice rhythm.”  
“I was thinking of the lyrics.”  
“Appropriate, you are mine.”  
“And my body is your territory?”   
“Oh yes. Want me to serenade you some more while I finished dinner?”  
“Only if you include that little hip twist you did.”


	72. Write a letter

12\. Write a letter  
Mycroft was sitting behind his desk; it was one of those days where he wishes he could exchange his tea for something stronger. Something with a percentage above 30, unlike most of the politicians he has to deal with IQ’s.   
"Maybe 30 is a bit of a stretch or an exaggeration, depending on politician." He commented. He was glad he was alone, if anyone else caught him speaking to himself he might have to take action. Finishing his tea he pushed the cup and saucer to the end of the desk.   
Right then there was a knock at his door.   
"Come in." Anthea walked in, carrying the post for the day, an amused smile on her lips.   
"Some letters for you sir."  
"Thank you. Why the smile?"   
"Oh nothing, interesting post today" she hinted and walked out. Curious he picked up the letters and chuckled.   
There was a letter from Greg. He recognised the handwriting anywhere.   
Pushing all the others aside he opened it. He loved it, it may be a bit of a security risk, but he trusted Greg enough.

'To Mr. Mycroft Holmes.   
I Gregory Lestrade hereby declare that I know you know what I'm saying.  
And that you know I know what I'm saying regarding this letter.   
To whoever may read this, may you know that I know   
that Mr. Holmes knows what he should now about me and   
that I know what I should now about him.  
Nothing will ever change, for now and for forever to come.   
Regards   
Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.

Mycroft picked up the phone and dialled. Greg picked up after the second ring.   
"Lestrade.”  
"You declare that I know you love me and you know I know that you love me and if anyone should read the letter they must know that you know I know you love me and that I know you know I love you. Always. "  
"Always and always."


	73. 5 PM

13\. 5 pm

"Gregory!" Sherlock and John turned to Mycroft who was yelling out for Greg, not calling. They were all worried.   
"Are you certain he said 5 pm?" Mycroft asked.   
"Yes. Mycroft. 5pm in this building."  
"He's not here!" Mycroft responded as he looked around.   
They looked at him with concern. They knew that they were dating, for a few months now actually but this is the first time they see Mycroft with so much emotion. Usually he would show indifference or annoyance when something like this is happening, but this is completely different. Mycroft looked nearly frightened.   
"We need to split up, our chances of finding him is greater." John said.  
"We can't risk getting separate." Sherlock replied.   
"Collins said the place will be flooded at 5 pm."   
"We need to find him Sherlock!" Mycroft practically yelled all pretence of composure gone.   
Sherlock looked like he was about to retort when John stepped in.   
"Everyone shut up. We need to focus. Now we have the minds of two Holmes's available so please put aside the sibling rivalry and work together."  
They stared at each other.   
"The structure is unstable.”  
"But the east side contains the most steel structures."  
"Perfect for containment or tying up." With one look they started running to the east side. John following. It was a quarter to 5. As they entered through the side they found him. Tied up and unconscious. Sherlock was the first to reach him, and untied him. Mycroft was one his phone calling for back up and John checked for injuries.   
As they started moving Greg regained some consciousness. Together they walked out Greg being supported between the brothers. Just as they left John's watched beeped. It was 5 pm. With a rush, the warehouse started flooding.   
They were just in time.   
Through dried blood covered eye lids Greg looked at Mycroft. He had huge breath-taking smile on his lips. Mycroft placed his hands just under Greg's jaw and returned the smile before he kissed him. Sherlock's groaned and turned away. John tried to contain his laugh.   
"Gregory if you wanted attention there are other ways my dearest."  
"Sorry Love. Ah look you’ve ruined your suit."  
"No matter. Hardly the first one ruined since we've been together."  
The dismay and groaning in the background was worth it.


	74. Shimmer

14\. Shimmer

Greg felt like the proverbial fish out of water. They were at a gala. A very posh and private invitation only gala. The Queen was here! He so did not know what to do or how to act. This was so out of his league he's convinced he didn't even make try outs. Sighing he swirled the liquid in his glass. The most expensive and exquisite champagne in the world. And the glasses! He felt like Shrek holding Tinkerbell's tiara. It was decorated with real small diamonds.   
This was his second glass. He was hoping to get a few more in before the nights out. Doubt he'll get a chance to drink it anytime soon. Taking another sip he took in the view. The moon was casting small shimmery streaks across the pond as the garden lights follow the path for wanderers.   
"Gregory?" Mycroft voice carried across the air to where he was standing. He grinned at his partner who was looking absolutely breath-taking.   
"Bloody hell Mycroft. You're absolutely gorgeous. Stop taking my breath away. I need the oxygen." He joked. His eyes were serious. Mycroft blushed as he walked closer. His hands encircling Greg's around the glass.   
"Doubt as handsome and ravishing as you my dearest. Besides you can have all my breaths if the air outside is insufficient."  
"God you're such a romantic."  
"Only because I learned what romance was from you."  
"Wow. Keep going."  
"I can go on the whole night. Why are you standing here alone?"  
"Needed some air. This is a spectacular night and I'm not really use to the company. Makes me wonder My. What do you see in me when you have access to the world, to royalty?"  
"Look at the reflection on the water." Greg turned and Mycroft stood behind him, his voice softly in his neck, and one hand encircling his torso the other pointing out in front of them.  
"The moon only shimmers like that on the water because it's dark and the moon is the light. I've learned that everything in this world that shimmers sooner or later fades away. However the light of the moon will shine regardless whether there's a reflection or not. Just like the sun. Like you. Sometimes I feel like you're the moon and I'm the water only shimmering because of your light in my life. I've always been the one behind the scenes, the one in the shadows and only started shining when you cast your light on me. That is more valuable than the champagne and the glass in your hand. More than the suit you're wearing. More than this gala or the royals present. You're priceless to me."


	75. A sign

15\. A sign

According to some people and theories when you're in a coma, your subconscious enters another world. Some sort of parallel universe or different plane of existing or however you want to put it.

Others believe you are fully aware of what is going on around you and what is being said; you just can't participate or respond. Some believe that you are basically dead to the world. A strong deep sleep and you are unaware of what's going on around you.  
Greg didn't care who was right or who was wrong. He didn't care as long as the man in front of him, the man in the coma wakes up. He must wake up and look at him and smiled. He wants to know that this coma patient will very soon no longer be a coma patient.

So he reads.   
He reads books, he reads stories, and he reads poems and plays. He talks to him about their plans for the future. He tells him about his day, he tells him he is loved and appreciated. He tells him he is missed and longed for.  
He informs him that there is people who is dependent on him, whereas Greg being the biggest one. He does talk of this with a smile and soft touch.   
He doesn't tell him the news or the negative reports from the doctors. He doesn't tell him his parents are crying for him to get better. He doesn't tell him, that his brother nearly gave up and went back to the drugs. He doesn't tell him, how some people are losing hope for his recovery. He doesn't tell him that his heart is breaking inside with every passing silent day.   
He knows and he believes that he will give him a sign to keep on hoping and believing.   
So he does.   
He holds his hand as he fell asleep at the bedside. Greg knows beyond a doubt that Mycroft knew what he was doing when just before sunrise gave Greg's hand a squeeze.


	76. Full moon

16 Full moon  
This was a secret, he didn't keep it a secret, it’s just no one have ever taken the time to learn this about him. He has considered the possibility that he may be from a line of gypsies, back in the day or maybe his great grandparents were free spirit people back in France. However Greg had a soft spot for the moon. A full moon to be precise. He would sometimes when things were just a little too tough and hard to handle he would take the bike go for a nice long drive and when it's a full moon, he would find a spot and just take it in.   
He would stare at the moon, contemplating life, the decisions he made his future plans, hopes and dreams.   
This was one of those nights. He was a bit sad to be honest. He and Mycroft have been good for a few months now, so it was inevitable that the first fight had to happen sometime.   
It was quite intense too when he thought back. He was used to Sherlock's antics and sharp tongue but was a bit unprepared to get it from Mycroft. At least he wasn't so nasty and cruel. He wasn't overly worried; he knew they would sort it out. He just needed this moment to get away and recharge a bit. He was thankful it was so safe out here. In the garden, behind some hedge. He was lying on the ground staring at the moon. The most of the lights were out but some outside lights were on.   
He ignored it.   
He frowned. He could hear a noise, someone was coming towards him. Probably Mycroft. It's his house after all, maybe a minion. The steps were coming closer. No. It was Mycroft. He didn't say anything as he looked at Gregory then down towards his clothes. Sighing he unrolled the small blanket tucked under his arm and laid it out on the grass next to Greg. Greg tried to hide a smirk. 'Posh git.' Mycroft bend down and lay next to Greg. He didn't say a word. They laid there both just staring at the moon. After a while Mycroft softly whispered:

"Tell me about your passions  
Tell me what makes you tick

Tell me all the things  
You've discovered  
About yourself  
After all these years  
Of searching.

Why do you  
Do the things  
You do, and  
How did you  
get to be such  
A beautiful creature?

I want to get to know  
You so I can   
Justify this love  
I already feel for you. '

Greg blinked. He turned towards Mycroft  
"Marianna Paige"  
"It's a beautiful poem. Like you."  
"It’s you. You make me tick. The rest you'll just have to wait and see."


	77. The stars make no noise

17 The stars make no noise

"You just love the outdoors don't you?" Mycroft asked as he looked at Greg. Mycroft was in the shadow of one of the big trees in his parent’s garden. Greg was standing in the sun, helping Mycroft's mother to water the flowers.  
"I do. We hardly get any sun in London and when it's there you need to embrace it, soak it up let it tingle on your skin."  
"Absolutely Greg. None of my boys were too fond of the outdoors. Sherlock was more willing than Mikey here, always skimming his knees running after an insect. Mikey would sit in under a tree keeping an eye out for his little brother. "  
"Mycroft. It's not that difficult. It's called freckles and wasn't my greatest feature, and the tingle Gregory, is called burning leading to cancer." Mycroft stated. Greg and Mycroft’s mother just look at each other and started giggling. He rolled his eyes and added.  
"Besides I preferred the summer nights to be outside, the stars make no noise unlike the day."  
"Love I don’t think that's what that proverb means.”  
"But as you say my dearest, I’m the British Government and I can make it mean whatever I like." Greg laughed and Mycroft tried to hide the smirk on his face. He's mother joined and then she asked.  
"Mikey what did you mean your freckles weren’t your greatest feature?" Mycroft blushed and looked at Greg who walked over to him and taking his partner's hand explained;  
"It's my favourite feature. I get lost in them. They are my stars guiding me to his heart.


	78. Planting seeds

18\. Planting seeds

"Mycroft?" Greg stood in the middle of the conservatory, surrounded by books, containers and soil and seeds. Mycroft was standing at the edge of the table sorting through the different labels.  
"Yes?" Mycroft didn't even look up at Greg.  
"What are you doing?  
"Building a garden"  
"A garden?"  
"That's correct."  
Greg stepped closer to take a better look at the seeds. It was a mixture of fruits, vegetables and herbs with some flowers as well.   
"May I ask why?"  
"I have a big house with a big garden that's not being fully utilised to its potential."  
"And you're taking up gardening? Just the planning or the actual planting as well? "  
"All of it, I will bring in help from time to time to keep it blooming and healthy, but the beginning stages I will do."  
"Love, what brought this on?" Mycroft sighed and stood up.  
"You."  
"Me?"  
"You've been planting the proverbial seeds in my brother to be better to stopped the drugs, you planted the seeds of love and commitment in my mind, and now we are living together and you made this a house a home, a place I actually want to be, and I thought a garden would be perfect. We can even add a small water fountain, and maybe a bench. "  
"Swings?"  
"Swings?"  
"Yes, or one of those swinging double chairs where we can sit and relax."  
"Definitely. But first I need to sort out what goes where depending on the most sunlight and growth opportunities."  
"You do that. I'll go make some tea."


	79. Favourite word/s

19\. Favourite word/s

He probably was well on his way from headache to migraine. It felt like his brain cells were taking hostage by an mid sixty blender and the ransom is an obscene amount of little pills called paracetamol, aspirin, codeine, opiates or a mixture of them all in a little migraine kit. So far the ransom is unpaid. He is trying to negotiate. 'Please it's almost time to go home.' 'Come on let me finished this last report.' 'Don't let Sherlock call me on a street race’ all unsuccessful.   
Oh good now his neck muscles are being kidnapped as well. Putting his pen down he tried to stretch his neck.   
"Oowww." He couldn't help but groaned. Today is one from some deep corner of Stephen King's horror collection. He wouldn’t be surprised if a clown knocks on his door.   
Taking a few several breaths he picked up his bottle of water and drank half of it. They day was arduous and long.   
Luckily there wasn't a call from Sherlock or some horrible murder call out. He was left alone with the pain until it was time to go home. 

As soon as he got home he finally surrendered to the demands of the kidnappers of his brain cells and drank a few pills. Sighing he went to lay down on his sofa.   
He must have fallen asleep because when he woke up Mycroft was bending over and caressing his cheek.  
"Hello my dearest." Greg smiled.  
Yes that is most certainly his favourite word on the whole planet. 'Dearest.' He is the British Government's dearest. The ice man's soft spot. He is this amazing and wonderful man’s ‘dearest’.


	80. Turn to the sunlight

20\. Turn to the sunlight

"Sherlock!" Greg yelled as loud as he could as he ran up the stairs at Baker Street. Sherlock frowned and looked towards the door. John and Mycroft were confused as well. Before either could comment the door burst open and Greg stepped in.   
They stared. Greg had his coat around his neck like a cape. The sleeves were used to tie it together in front. His shirt was hanging loose and his tie was tied around his head like Rambo. The best part was he was grinning.   
Grinning like an idiot. His face was flushed, his eyes big black saucers of pupils blown wide open. They instantly walked closer. John spoke first.  
"Greg mate, you’re okay?”  
"Johnny! I'm super matey mate. Super." Sherlock looked perplexed and Mycroft sighed.  
"Gregory. You’re high." John opened his mouth in shock.  
"Mikey Mikey. My beautiful lovely amazing super sexy man. Jeez you're hot as hell in those suit." With a wink he whistled. Sherlock practically choked on air. John tried to keep his mouth shut and Mycroft, oh how he blushed.  
"That suit. My dear." Mycroft corrected. Sherlock sputtered.  
"That's what you’re worried about? His grammar? He’s high. On drugs." He turned back to him. "What the hell happened?" Before he could answer Sally came running in.  
"Sir! Oh God stop running away!"  
"Detective Sergeant Donovan what happened to the inspector?" Mycroft asked as calmly as he could. Greg ignored them and went to Sherlock's skull. He picked it up and patted its head.  
"Hi mate what's your name?" Sherlock grabbed the skull out of his hands, Greg stuck out his tongue. Sherlock frowned and turned to his brother.   
"Did you see what he just did?" Mycroft ignored him and turned to Sally who explained.  
"We we're on a routine check around the corner and the suspect started calling Greg some derogatory names about his sexuality and a fight broke out. He pushed Greg against the wall, which was fake and made out of cardboard, where they hid away a full stash of Meth. Greg got covered in the powder and as a result high as a kite. And I can't take him back to the station like that." Greg walked up to Sherlock.   
"This stuff is amazing. No wonder you like it. It's so clear! Everything! And bright! And shiny! And so light! From now on I'm saying yes! Hey I know we should share, mates bonding. Yeah!" Sherlock stood in shock John was giggling like a schoolgirl.   
Mycroft tried to keep his composure but was failing.  
He looked at his partner and turned to Sally.  
"Thank you for keeping an eye out, I’ll be taking over and will take him home. Sally visibly relaxed.  
"Thanks." Mycroft turned back to Greg.  
"Gregory I think it's time we get you home. Come on." Greg smirked.  
"Finally.” He punched the air. "Love the suit Mikey but what's underneath..." Greg smirked and winked until he saw Sherlock's expression. He turned concerned.   
"Hey what's wrong, you look like you want to throw up? Are you sick?"  
"I'm fine. Just go with my brother. Please I have several scenarios to delete."  
"Nah ah you look unwell. You need a hug." And before anyone could stop him he threw his arms around him and squeezed. John was laughing so hard he had to sit down. Sally joined in. Mycroft sighed at grabbed Greg by his tie around his head.  
"Come on, before you scare my brother beyond help. Let's get you home." Greg smiled at Sherlock one last time.  
"You know Sherl. .Sheerly your hugs aren’t nearly as soft and wonderful as Mikey’s. I love hugging him, it's like coming home." Before they left the room he turned around and with his one arm held high he declared:  
"Always remember my dear friends, no matter how dark the nights always turn to the sunlight!"  
"Gregory!" Mycroft yelled from behind the door.  
Greg giggled “Coming my sunlight!"


	81. Plans and projects

21\. Plans and projects 

"Pinterest?"   
"Yes."  
"That's not a word Gregory." Mycroft said as he drank the last of his tea before placing it back in his cup on the tray. Greg rolled his eyes as he also finished his coffee in his favourite red mug, with a chip.   
"It's a word, and an application and the world at your fingertips." He replied as he picked up his phone.   
"I was under the impression that is the libraries."  
"Libraries?"   
"Yes. Everything from history to finances and nature. .."  
"Yeah, but it's not Pinterest My. Look here."  
Greg made himself comfortable against the headboard and Mycroft immediately attached himself to Greg, with his head on his chest. He watched as Greg opened the little app on his phone.   
"Now look, we've been talking about changing the attic into a more productive area right?"   
"Yes."  
"Now see here I type in for example ‘posh English mansion attic ideas’ and click search..."  
Mycroft gave Greg a small slap on his stomach at his description of his house. Greg chuckled and went on.   
"Ah look. Nothing." Greg said.   
"Oh well Love, this means we should just ran away and live on a yacht."  
"Hilarious. Your sass in the morning is absolutely legendary." Mycroft replied as he grabbed the phone and change the search area.  
"Attic ideas." He hardly typed search and then countless ideas popped up.   
"Oh this is interesting, look at this." Greg leaned closer as Mycroft scrolled down.   
"Gregory, how do I save these?”  
"You pin it on your board, or mine actually since you’re in my account."   
"Board?"  
"Let me show you." They spent the entire morning looking up ideas and pinning.   
"You do realise what this means my dearest?" Mycroft tried seductively as he handed Greg his phone back.  
"What's that?"  
"You need to arrange for some time off."  
"Is that so?"  
"Well these plans and projects won't manifest itself you know.”  
"Plans and projects? You want me to do this?"  
"With some help."  
"You just want to see me all sweating with ripped jeans and a hammer, don't you?”  
"Oh hell yes."


	82. Get your hands dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your reading this, it means with this chapter I'm officially on target.

22\. Get your hands dirty 

"This is most annoying and inconvenient." Mycroft muttered as he removed his jacket. Greg leaned against the car, his arms crossed and looked extremely smug with the situation. Mycroft narrowed his eyes.   
"You're lack of empathy is a bit disturbing."  
"Yeah whatever. I find this little dishevelled state you’re in, very adorable. "  
"Adorable?” Mycroft asked offended. Greg smiled and stepped closer. Mycroft tried to fix his waistcoat and ignored him. Greg wasn't so easily deterred. He ran his hands up Mycroft's arms and played with the buttons.   
"Adorable, tantalising, handsome, sexy and so incredibly hot." He said as he leaned on closer his breath just hardly touching Mycroft's cheek. Mycroft swallowed and lock his eyes with Greg.   
"You do?"  
"Oh yes. Makes me want to plan for the future where we are stranded on an abandon road, with a flat tyre more often. That way I can see and teach you how to change a tyre. See how you get those amazing hands dirty."  
"I suppose getting stuck out here is not the worst that could happen."  
"It's quite a little adventure, shall we change the tyre now, or find a little spot in the trees..."  
"Maybe we can wait before getting our hands dirty, after all, it won't be very healthy while the sun is so high and hot."  
"Indeed."


	83. Make a wish

23\. Make a wish

The silence was deafening. It was the type of silence that cut through the air with a serrated knife, causing more destruction and fear in its path. Somewhere alongside the chair and decorative flower pots a woman was crying. A small sob escaping the air like the drip drip sounds of a leaky faucets.   
Somewhere behind him a small child was moaning and fidgeting with his little superhero toy.  
Greg knew the feeling. He would like nothing more to release some of the tension in his muscles by fidgeting. Not that he would ever admit that he fidgets. After all he is a detective. Right now, he was just as scared as the child.  
He just came to the bank for a quick withdraw. He wanted to release some fixed savings. It was going to be a surprise. He and Mycroft had talked about taking things further and this is the next logical step.  
Engagement; not a bank robbery.   
He sighed.   
He should've just gone tomorrow like he planned, but no, he saw the design he wanted and took a spontaneous step. Right to the bank and into the barrel of a gun. Several in fact.   
This was an extremely well planned heist. Every access was accounted for, every camera disabled. They even sprayed the windows with some kind of chemical that covered the whole thing. Not a single light from outside could get in. The result was a very isolated and heavily controlled room.   
Greg was actually impressed, and hated the fact that he was. The thing is, these guys were good. Very good.   
It didn't even matter that the customers had their phones with them as they disabled the signal. Nothing in, nothing out.   
Another after effect of the robbery was because of the isolation, and the power being interrupted, the air conditioning system was not working.   
Greg was hot, sweating and very uncomfortable on the floor. He wanted to go home.   
To Mycroft.   
Where it was safe.   
He wondered whether Mycroft is aware of the situation. Probably.   
His men would've seen him come in, and not going out. The doors been closed for just over two hours now.   
Taking a deep breath he laid his head back against the wall. His arse was losing feeling.   
He really didn't believe in fate and luck and all those things, but today he really wanted it to be true.   
He wanted to close his eyes, make a wish and everything will be okay.   
Maybe he should try.  
Maybe he should make one.  
He closed his eyes and heard Mycroft's soft voice in his ears.   
"Go on my dearest. Make a wish."


	84. On the road

24\. On the road

When you take into account that travelling can be good, your whole perspective about traveling changes. Throughout history and cultures, travelling always had a deeper meaning. In the sense that there are so many proverbs, sayings and idioms about travelling and adventure you can't really ignore it.   
Travelling is a great way to connect with oneself, to get in touch with those thoughts and feelings you hide away.   
It's when you're travelling, regardless of destination and road, which you take those feelings and thoughts out and dust them, clean it, inspect them and then you either let it go, or get some understanding from it. 

It was on the road to school that he decided to become a cop.  
It was on the road to a party that he met his wife and decided to settle down.   
It was on the road that Greg bumped into Sherlock and made a decision that changed his life.   
It was on a road that he met Mycroft and realised some thoughts and feelings can't be hidden, no matter how many years past as a young man discovering himself and his identity.   
It was on the road home that he made the decision to divorce his wife after another humiliation and affair. 

So many roads, so many decisions. 

Here he is standing. On the road again. The past behind him, the future of another marriage in front of him. One decision, one vow, one happily ever after. Or happy as you can get with a Holmes. So ecstatic and crazy adventure sounds more like it.   
He looked up at the man, waiting on the other side, together they will walk down this new road. He smiled.   
He loves being on the road


	85. Scent memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies.  
> This one is sad, couldn't think of something happy and fluffy.

25\. Scent memory 

Mycroft stared at Greg, his eyes taking in every little detail. The deductions running through his mind as though it was running on a treadmill. The cameras were of high quality, so his eyes didn't miss a thing. He leaned back in his chair, tired and just a little depressed.  
He was scared he realised that now, scared of commitment, scared of the changes happening in their relationship. There really was no reason to be. His heart - the traitor - was jumping and screaming for joy at the prospect of feeling all warm and fuzzy on a permanent basis. Apparently it got used to be all sentimental and romantic and taken out for long walks and warm coffee flavoured kisses. His heart was a very bad influence on the rest of his body as it responded with the heart and its spontaneity.  
His brain on the other hand wasn't so easily fooled. It kept the guards up. Although it replaced the brick and ice walls with glass and fire, it was still there.  
Gregory wasn’t.  
And that was the crux of the problem.  
He wanted Greg back.  
Sighing he stood up and walked to his bedroom. Opening the little black box under his bed he frowned at the contents. He pulled out the biggest offensive item. Gregory's scarf. He put it to his face and inhaled deeply.  
"Oh God!" He yelled into the fabric. The scent overwhelming every cell in his body, the heart rejoiced at the familiarity of it, his brain finally surrendered and accepted the crumbling of its walls.  
According to scientists your nose is directly attached or connected to the memory part of the brain, making it the number one strongest factor in recalling memories and the past. This didn't help him one bit as he tried to forget what he lost, and more than anything wanted back.


	86. Kitchen sink

26\. Kitchen sink 

Sherlock stood in the corner of the kitchen, his face set in confusion, disbelief and a little bit astounded. He never would have believed it if he didn't witness it with his own eyes. He couldn't comprehend the fact that he was indeed seeing what he was seeing.   
When he asked his mom where his brother and Greg was he was so surprised by the answer he immediately made his way to the kitchen to see for himself.   
And there it was: Mycroft was doing the dishes, yes he has done it before, but his mother always had to scold him, and force him. Not once did he volunteer. On top of that he was enjoying it. He shook his head. Only one explanation; Lestrade. That man had completely altered his brother's mind and and and... ugh, he couldn't think.   
His mother followed him and stood next to her youngest, a smile on her lips. Her boy was happy. So happy.   
"I don't understand?" Sherlock whispered as he watched them. His mother answered.   
"He said he was only doing it because Greg said it was actually relaxing and gave his mind time to process the day’s events. Almost like cleaning your mind while cleaning the dishes. Mikey decided to give it a go and they've been doing it together ever since. I think it's one of their ways to ensure some quality time."  
Right then Greg took a small plate and pretended to splash Mycroft, who retaliated by splashing actual water and soap on him. Sherlock groaned at this open display of affection.   
Mycroft and Greg turned to them only realising the audience.   
"Ah brother, want to help?"  
"It's disgusting how enamoured you two are." Mummy tried to scold him but stopped as the couples started giggling.   
"Are you giggling?" Sherlock choked out.  
"Yes. Dear brother we are."  
"Yeah, it’s so disgusting I think I should kiss your brother to annoy you some more." Greg said as he put down his dishcloth and took hold of Mycroft's shirt.   
"You wouldn't dare, not in front of mummy!"  
"Oh I most certainly shall kiss my dearest Gregory in front of the world right here in front of the kitchen sink." Mycroft declared as he bent down and gave Greg a huge kiss. Sherlock sputtered some syllables and left, leaving mummy with a huge smile and clapping her hands.


	87. Hero

27\. Hero  
"I told you he wouldn’t be here." Sherlock replied as he looked around. They were at a police function, some prizes and awards been given to the cops and civilians who is keeping the street safe with courageous acts. Greg was to receive an award for courage and bravery.   
A school trip, turned disaster as the small boat with ten children capsized. Greg was out running when he saw it happened and jumped in, saving all the kids. The water was not that deep, however it was cold and in the winter. Greg nearly drowned and on top of that ended up with such a bad case of pneumonia that he had to be hospitalised.   
Mycroft made sure that his brother and John would attend to give him the support. John tried to keep him quiet as Sherlock made no attempt to whisper his opinion and made several heads turned to their table.   
Granted Sherlock was only half right, Greg was here, but made an excuse to go to the bathroom and hasn’t returned. Mycroft sighed.   
"I'm sure he will be here soon.”  
"He's been in the bathroom for forty minutes now, doubt its constipation keeping him busy."  
"Sherlock!" John whispered. Mycroft stood up.   
"Excuse me; I’m going to find him."  
With that he walked out on search for his partner. After a declaration that this was boring Sherlock got up and walked out with John following.   
They found Greg and Mycroft outside. Greg was sitting on the grass next to a water fountain. Mycroft gave one look at the grass, then his suit and sat down on the edge of the fountain wall. Greg and Sherlock shared a grin as they saw it. Sherlock sat down next to Greg, with John actually sitting down on the wall as well.   
"Sorry for walking out." Greg muttered.   
"I knew you would." Sherlock replied smugly.   
Ignoring him Mycroft placed his hand on his shoulder.   
"What's wrong Gregory?"   
"I'm no hero. If I am so are all of us. John is a soldier and doctor. He saved lives on a daily basis. Making decisions that have long term effects. Sherlock here is a hero because he saved our lives by jumping off a roof. He saved countless people by figuring out the murderer before he can strike again. You are a hero because you saved us; you brought us together and saved us. You save England on a daily basis, with your brolly, posh suit and Darjeeling tea. God I love you. Anyway. We all heroes and we're not. It's easy to save a life, we can all testify on that, but to keep heart, to keep hope when everything in you wants to give up. To keep going even when all rationality and logic tells you not to. That's heroic, that should be awarded."  
They sat there in silence each one thinking about what he said.   
After a while Mycroft commented in a very serious but obviously with intent to lighten the mood.   
"If we are going to be awarded, I think I deserve a big one for looking after Sherlock. John and Greg snickered as Sherlock turned sharply at him.   
"I deserve one for surviving you."  
"Actually I live with him." John threw in his two cents. Sherlock tried to look angry but he was clearly enjoying himself.   
"What about Lestrade, after all he lives with the British Government."  
Greg stood and pulled Mycroft to him.  
"Ah yes, so glad I went into civil service. The rewards are amazing." Mycroft blushed as he hugged Greg. Sherlock and John pretended to make gagging noises in the background.


	88. Makes you smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know why the prompt is there a second time, so I made it from Mycroft's point of view.

28\. Makes you smile

It started with a picture. Or a gif, actually. Mycroft texted him a picture of a minister nearly falling over a chair. It was about 8 seconds long and was with edited to make it look like some kind of weird dance move. Greg couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud. The message accompanying it just said.  
"Imagine seeing this live and pretending to be the Ice-man..."

Next was a mug on his coffee table it was dark blue, with a picture of the Queen, she was holding an umbrella and the headline said: the weather forecast. ... Looks like reign today. It became the best mug in the entire station. Everybody knew where it came from, meaning no one can complain, and protected that mug like an extension of Greg's arm. 

Then came the t shirt. It was a light blue with a cartoon. An umbrella with these big puppy eyes and a little quotation box saying. It rains every time I go outside.   
It was his favourite shirt. 

It was a Friday night and Greg was relaxing watching tv. Mycroft was late, a meeting that went to long. When he finally came home he immediately made himself comfortable against Greg's side.   
"So the mug, and little gif pictures and all these little pins, any particular reason?”  
"Hmm. It makes you smile."  
"You like making me smile with gifts?”  
"I like seeing you smile, I love seeing you smile when I'm the reason."


	89. Goodnight

29\. Goodnight  
"They say that if you dream something more than once, it sure to come true." Greg was lying in bed spread out in the middle. The bedside lamp was on. The phone against his ear.  
"Is that so?" Mycroft whispered. He was also in bed, neatly on one side with his phone.   
"Yes."  
"According to who?"  
"Disney."   
"Have you been watching Disney movies?"  
"Yes. Saw my niece over the weekend, cause my boyfriend decided to go save the world, so we watched movies, ate popcorn and baked pink fairy cupcakes."  
"I'm sorry your boyfriend is so neglectful. Want me to have a word with him? "  
"Yes. Tell him I'm missing him like crazy. Tell him my lips are missing his. Tell him my heart is not beating as it should cause his is not there to complete the lullaby. Tell him to be safe and to come home as soon as possible. "  
"I will tell him. I can also testify that even though he is well educated, multi lingual he is unable to form the right words and sentences to describe the way he misses you."  
"He's doing an admiral job so far."  
"I miss you Gregory. I'm almost finished."  
"I miss you too."   
"I love you."  
"I love you."  
"Good night."  
"Good morning"


	90. Full

30\. Full

Mycroft frowned. He's been trying to call Greg since the morning and have been unable to get hold of him.  
Yes, he knows exactly where he was.  
No, Greg can't talk as it was meeting upon meeting and then oh how wonderful his battery died. 

By mid-afternoon he was frustrated and just a little impatient. That should've been the clue he needed to let him to know to be calm, but he didn't listen as he called Greg on his landline while in a meeting with some of his closest allies.   
Since everyone knew of their relationship he put the phone on speaker, besides he just wanted to confirm dinner plans. No secret chats and private details necessary.

Greg didn't pick up, after he knew Greg had charge his phone so he called again. On Greg's landline.   
"Lestde." Mycroft narrowed his eyes. That was not very professional.   
"Gregory is that anyway to answer a phone, a work phone?" It was quiet for a moment, everyone in the room, waited for his response. They could hear Greg clean his throat and taking a breath.   
"My apologies. Haven't had lunch, nor breakfast so my mouth was a bit full."  
"With what that couldn't wait?"  
"Well for starters, not you. Explains why I was able to get it down so fast."  
There was a dead silence in the room. No one dared to look up. Mycroft felt like his skin could spontaneously combust. He knew he was redder than a tomato. The silence must have stretch for a while before Greg spoke again.   
"My?" Taking a deep breath Mycroft tried to compose his voice.   
"You're on speaker."  
"Oh....."  
Well in for a penny in for a pound.   
"You know I love you Mycroft, but I'm not doing an audience."

The meeting was put on hold; Mycroft gave the most evil glare with so much promise if anything gets out of the room. Anthea was looking anywhere and everywhere as she made sure everyone left in a very quick, yet dignified manner.  
When the door closed he took out his phone.   
"You are getting to pay for that. Gregory. "  
"Is that so?"  
"Oh yes. In full."


	91. Spring fever

31\. Spring fever 

"I'm sick." Mycroft rolled over in the bed, pulling the blankets over his head. Greg just smirked.   
"No you are not."  
"I am. I think I'm coming down with something." Mycroft mumbled from underneath the blankets.   
Greg leaned over and pressed his face where he was certain Mycroft neck would be.   
"You were fine last night, in fact your voice was quite loud and clear. Also I know for a fact that the swallow breaths were not from a cold."  
"Maybe it's your fault, breaking down my immune system and now I'm sick."  
"You mean I completely worn you out?"  
"Yes. Congratulations. You managed to bring the whole British Government down."  
"Wow! What an honour. Me a simple man, bringing a whole government down in less than one night. Does this mean I get knighthood? "  
"More like treason."  
"My, come on. It's the first day of spring and it's a beautiful day, and we've got a picnic with your parents planned. It would be fun. Country air. Green grass...."  
"Hot sun... more freckles. .... red skin....."  
Realisation set in.   
"Oh. You don’t have to be in the sun. We'll sit under a big tree and I'll personally take care of this beautiful skin with some lotion, and besides I love your freckles. It's so hot."  
Mycroft slowly pulled down his blanket.   
"You do?"  
"Didn't my tongue prove it last night?"  
"Maybe I need more evidence? We can stay in bed and discuss the matter; I can call and say I've got a fever."  
"No. The only fever I'm allowing is spring fever!"  
"A pun? Really? "  
"Considering I've brought the entire British Government down, I’m entitled to pun."  
"Traitor."  
"Knight.”


	92. Spread your wings

1\. Spread your wings

It was a karaoke night and most of the Yarders were present. Everybody knew that Greg can play guitar and has a reasonably good voice.  
In fact Mycroft had on several occasions offered to sponsor Greg or get him touch with certain record labels.  
Greg happily declined and said his voice is for Mycroft’s ears alone.  
Both the Baker Street boys were there, although Sherlock with reluctance.  
It was after a few beers that Greg's was convinced or more like persuaded to sing.  
Greg went on stage to pick a song. He was always a classic rock man. It's what he listened to in his younger days.  
And of course he picked Queen. The crowd went wild as he started and Sherlock took out his phone to record it for Mycroft. 

"Sammy was low  
Just watching the show  
Over and over again  
Knew it was time  
He'd made up his mind  
To leave his dead life behind  
His boss said to him  
"Boy you'd better begin  
To get those crazy notions right out of your head  
Sammy who do you think that you are?  
You should've been sweeping up the Emerald Bar"  
Everyone was cheering and clapping as he continued. Confident and exuberant as he sang  
Spread your wings and fly away  
Fly away, far away  
Spread your little wings and fly away  
Fly away, far away  
Pull yourself together  
'Cos you know you should do better  
That's because you're a free man  
He spends his evenings alone in his hotel room  
Keeping his thoughts to himself, he'd be leaving soon  
Wishing he was miles and miles away  
Nothing in this world, nothing would make him stay  
Since he was small  
Had no luck at all  
Nothing came easy to him  
Now it was time  
He'd made up his mind  
"This could be my last chance"  
His boss said to him, "Now listen boy!  
You're always dreaming  
You've got no real ambition, you won't get very far  
Sammy boy, don't you know who you are?  
Why can't you be happy at the Emerald Bar?"  
So honey  
Spread your wings and fly away  
Fly away, far away  
Spread your little wings and fly away  
Fly away, far away  
Pull yourself together  
'Cos you know you should do better  
That's because you're a free man"

The crowd went wild as he finished. Sherlock was impressed.  
He immediately sends the video to his brother.  
With one sentence:

Don't say I've never done something nice. SH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realised, Baker Street boys sounds like a pop group .....


	93. Whisper /s

2\. Whisper

People don't really value or respect the power of a whisper.   
I mean seriously, you can ruin people with one soft spoken sentence or you can release their caged wings to take flight. 

There so much it can do.  
Greg stared at front of him his eyes open but unseeing.   
Every fibre of his body is trying to support the cells in his body to hold on.   
Every now and then he would try to clear his throat but it was so dry and scratchy.   
He shut his eyes closed as the overhead lights came on.   
For one part of the day, he has no idea whether its five minutes or five hours, he only knows that for that brief moment when the lights are on, he gets beaten.   
He gets tortured. His bruises got bruises. He knows he has a few broken bones, but because he's tied up he can't be a hundred percent sure.   
They yelled at him as they beat him.   
"He's not coming for you!"  
"He doesn't care!"  
"You're just a piece of meat to him!"  
"Did you think the Ice-man care whether you live or die?"  
"You're a nuisance to him"  
He ignores it all.   
He doesn't talk, he doesn't yell in pain.   
Personally he thinks Sherlock would actually be a bit impressed with his ability to shut it all out.   
To go into those corner of his mind where it's safe. He knows what he knows.   
Mycroft loves him, Mycroft will find him.   
How does he know?   
The whisper tells him.  
"I love you Gregory.”  
"I will find you"  
"I'm coming.”  
"Hold on."  
"Dearest."

He stared into the darkness with a smile. He will listen to the whisper not the yelling. The whispers will guide him home.   
The lights came on, there was no yelling, no beatings, just a small touch on his cheek, a kiss to his forehead and a whisper.   
"You're safe. I found you."


	94. Coming up green

3\. Coming up green

"Do you support this?"  
"What?" Mycroft continued to eat his breakfast while going over the newspaper.   
Greg was sitting on his desk, yes, on Mycroft's desk in his office with a cup of coffee in his hand while the other one contains a piece of toast.   
He was looking at an article with Mycroft.   
"That?" Mycroft looked up at Greg who pointed to the newspaper with his toast.   
Right then Anthea walked in with more files and newspapers.   
"Aah good morning Anthea."  
"Good morning Sir, detective. The late morning edition."  
"Greg. You really can call me Greg or Lestrade." Greg replied as he put the last piece of toast in his mouth.   
Mycroft shook his head at Greg's antics and Anthea nodded.   
Never would she have thought that she would live to see the detective on her boss's desk with toast and coffee, and no coaster or plate.   
"As you wish. Greg."  
"Hah! See not so hard, oh what's your opinion about that there in the paper? "  
She turned confused as she looked towards Mycroft. He shrugged.   
"No idea, apparently he can only point with toast.”  
"Funny. That article about the new transport and bicycles?"  
"I hope a lot, my dear as I do have a minor position in the transport.” Greg nearly chocked on his coffee.   
"Sure sure. So you support the bicycle idea, are you planning on getting one, to go to your meetings? "  
"Gregory. ..." Mycroft warned but a smirk was on his face.   
"I'm just asking, since we're all going green these days."  
"What's next, recycled newspaper?"  
"Already implemented.”  
Greg pretended to look impressed. Anthea was clearly finding it amusing.   
"What's next Mycroft? Sliced cheese?"  
"You're sarcasm is so inspiring so early in the morning.”  
"Ah I know. It's so fresh it’s all coming up green. "


	95. A hand to hold

4\. A hand to hold

In retrospect Mycroft couldn't believe it took him so long to figure it out.  
At first he thought it was because they were so new in the relationship, so new in their discovery of how they fit in each other’s lives that it took him a long time to figure out the pattern.  
Every time they would fell asleep Greg would hold onto his hand. It wouldn't matter on which side they would sleep, somehow Greg's hand would find his.  
First he thought it was when they were both asleep but it was when they were on their way home from a trip that he noticed it would be when he was asleep.  
Greg was driving and Mycroft fell asleep in the car his head turned to the window, and when he had woken up his hand was firmly clasped in Greg’s.  
Once when Greg was in hospital he would keep twitching his hand until Mycroft placed his hand in his and he would calm down.  
It was quiet the rain was softly falling outside playing their own little melody against the windows.  
Mycroft couldn't sleep he tried reading but it's difficult with only one hand. Sighing he tried to free his hand but Greg pulled tighter.  
"Gregory." He softly whispered.  
"Mmm."  
"I need my hand."  
"Nah ah, you’re sleeping, therefore not needed." Mycroft tried not to smile with that logic. After all it's true.  
"But I'm awake now." Greg let go of Mycroft's hand as he sat up.  
"What's wrong? Why can't you sleep? "  
"Nothing serious my dearest. I woke up but are unable to fall asleep so I thought I might read a bit, hence my hand. Which by the way why are you so intent on holding my hand?"  
Greg blushed and looked down.  
"Gregory?"  
"Did you know that otters hold hands when they sleep?”  
"No. I did not. Why do they do that?"  
"So they don't drift apart in the water. And it’s silly but holding your hand is my way of making sure you don't drift away. I’ve waited my entire life for someone like you, and I don’t want to let go. We all need a hand to hold."


	96. Hello morning

5\. Hello morning

"It's all good and well to ride off into the sunset it's quite another thing to deal with the night and the problems of the morning." Mycroft stood at the edge of the bed staring down at the naked man in his bed. The blanket covering his lower half. The man stared back at Mycroft with a huge smile on his face.   
"What problems?"  
"For starters my brother, and then our jobs and this liaison between us."  
"Liaison?"  
"What would you call it?"  
"The start of a beautiful relationship. Full of mind blowing sex, if last night is anything to go by." Mycroft couldn't stop the blush spreading across his face which is odd considering that his blood was rushing to other parts.   
"Gregory..."  
"Yes? He looked down to Mycroft's body.  
"Bloody hell you're sexy, please be mine?"  
"I'm not an object."  
"I know, just a very hot man that I would like to become very intimate with."  
Mycroft bowed his head down in embarrassment. Greg leaned closer.   
"What's really bothering you?”  
"Last night was amazing, but I've never done something so impulsive. I left everything and rode off into the sunset with you. And now, I’m quoting cheesy and corny lines.  
"You know the words ‘cheesy’ and ‘corny’? Do you know other lines too? Listen, Myc for the first time in a very long time you thought about you, don't let that feeling leave, whatever happens I'll stand with you and hold your hand."  
It took Mycroft a long time before he responded, he gave a small smile that turned to Greg and transformed into a predatory smile. He leaned closer over the bed.  
"Did you just call me 'Myc'?"  
"I did? Can’t remember, maybe you should come over here and refresh my memory Myc..."  
Mycroft turned his head and with one tug threw off the blanket.   
"Hello morning."


	97. Sunny side up

6\. Sunny side up  
Mycroft woke up with the sound of laughter and giggling over the sound of pans and cutlery being moved around.   
He was spending the weekend with Greg at Greg's sister. It was a bit strange to be so involved in a family before he even made it to the living room. His sister accepted him as a long lost brother and interlaced her arm around his as she showed him the house and the little jungle gym for their daughter.   
Greg just smiled and mouthed "I warned you". Greg's niece thought he was the best thing since strawberry yogurt pops and was immediately her new best friend. Which meant he played with the latest Doll franchise; “Sophia the first." Fitting if he says so himself, since she is also Sophia and both have brown hair, although real Sophia got the family big brown eyes. Which is not good, considering she can do a ‘puppy eye’ look much better than Gregory - the master of ‘puppy eye’ looks. He knows all the crooks and crannies on and around the jungle gym and don't forget the voices he can make while reading a bedtime story.   
The room he and Greg were using was on the ground floor at the east side meaning it was warm, well-lit and isolated. Perfect.   
The negative however was that it was close to the kitchen. He moved to get up when his phone got a text.   
"Stay in bed. Pretend to be asleep. 2 minutes."   
Greg. Smiling he made himself comfortable under the blankets and waited. Sure enough two minutes later the door opened.   
"Careful sweetheart." He heard Greg whispered. Followed by a giggling girl.  
"I got this Uncle Greg. Uncle Myc will love this."  
"Yes he will, ah look he’s still sleeping."  
"Can I wake him?" A soft unsure voice asked next to the bed. He waited.   
"Go on."  
"Hold this Uncle Greg." He could feel her climbing into the bed and slowly lowered the blanket when a soft hand touched his shoulder.   
"Uncle Myc? Wakeup uncle Myc."  
He pretended to wake up from a deep sleep and opened his eyes to big brown ones with a half tooth smile.  
"Good morning."  
"Morning uncle Myc. I made you breakfast."  
"You did?" He manoeuvred himself so that he was sitting upright. She sat down next to him and pointed to Greg.   
"Uncle Greg helped. Give him his food uncle." Mycroft looked at Greg who smiled back with a smile.   
"Morning Gregory. I heard you were quite busy this morning? "  
"I played assistant chef to her, here you go." Greg placed the tray on his lap and opened the lid. It was bacon and eggs with toast and some tomatoes. His eggs however were the biggest surprise. It was shaped in one of those egg shape thingies so it looked like two hearts together. Sunny side up. With the yolks on both top of the hearts. On it was written in tomato sauce G and S Love M.   
He stared. He looked at both of them. Greg could see the emotions running across his eyes.   
"It's true. Greg and Sophia love Mycroft." He took both Greg's hand and Sophia.   
"And Mycroft loves Greg and Sophia."


	98. Beauty is....

7\. Beauty is...

  
Mycroft had been throwing hints all week and Greg pretended not to have noticed until he placed the tickets in front of Mycroft's tea cup that morning.  
"You did listen." Mycroft smiled as he looked at the tickets.  
"Of course I did." Greg replied as he picked up some toast.  
"After all you were one note away from becoming lyrical; I was waiting for the accompanying musical dance..."  
Mycroft looked affronted.  
"I did not become lyrical."  
"Oh I heard the composition is extraordinary, the way he uses the colour in line with the pain and anger, how he brings in the redemptive tones via the structure of the objects. ....:  
"Yes. Yes you made your point." Mycroft mumbled as Greg started laughing and leaned in closer.  
"Do you get lyrical about me too?"  
"Oh sure, but it's more of a Shakespeare comedy..."  
"Piss off."

 

  
Greg oohed and aaahed at all the right places as they walked through the gallery. It may not be his style but he has no problem experiencing it with Mycroft. They do get so little time together. The artist was there and he would walked with the selected few people as he explained the meaning and aesthetic value of his work. In the end he asked what they perceive as beauty and Greg was the first to answer, after all he knows what beautiful really is. As soon as he answered he looked at Mycroft who was standing some distance away, but because it was a big room, Mycroft heard every word.  
"Beauty is when you look at something, more importantly, a person and instead of seeing the person, you see the soul, the heart and its beatings. That even though the person has the most beautiful graceful walk, a face that belongs on coins and portraits, hands that can touch every corner of you heart and mind, hips that sway to a melody only they can hear, that even their mere presence can calm the chaos in your mind, can ease the pain in your soul, and awaken the desires and love you've hidden away for fear to get hurt. That above all that, you can see the person for who they are. You can see the heart that cares, the mind that wants to help people, and the soul that wants to inspire those whom it meets. That is real beauty."

That was the day; Greg got a room full of people and an artist to shed a tear.


	99. Coffee /Tea

8\. Coffee /tea  
Yin - Yang   
Black - White   
Heart - Mind  
Gold - Silver   
Heart - Mind  
Coffee - Tea  
Some things don't just go together, they belong together. As if the universe declared that you cannot have the one without the other.   
That's Mycroft and Gregory. Two opposites who come together and together they just work. Like two ends of a scales that balanced each other.   
It was difficult in the beginning, the working together to form one unity, but they did it.   
They beat the odds, not because it's destiny or fate or written in the stars or the story book description of "true love." Yes.   
That played a part.   
However: when you asked they will both tell you, its hard work. It's a choice they make every day to give it their all. Not 50/50, I mean seriously, how can that ever work? Giving it your half? But a full 100%.  
That between the fights and the making up they will have a set goal; to be together and stronger than before.   
That's why finally there are two bathroom basins in the bathroom. Two sides to the bookshelves, two sides at the dvd collection. A home theatre system that can play not only cd's but old cassettes and vinyl records too.  
That's why the kitchen counter contains both a traditional tea set and a coffee machine. It took a while, but in the end, the perfect balance was created.


	100. It was a dream

9\. It was a dream  
"It was a dream.”  
"Then please put me back under." The words stumbled out of his mouth in rivets of pain and torment. He knows now that he will never be able to go back to how it used to be.   
Mycroft just looked at him with some small trace of regret, but the usual mask of impassiveness is back in its usual spot. His back straight, his fingers curled around the handle of his umbrella, the white knuckles the only outward evidence of the storm raging on the inside.   
Greg on the other hand was the poster child for falling apart, yet held together by such fine threads that at any moment something's going to snap.   
"My apologies."  
"Apologies! For fuck's sake Mycroft. How can you do this?"  
"I realised that it was all a dream, one whereas we had to wake up before it turned into a nightmare."  
"Like this?"  
"That's a bit dramatic."  
"Rich coming from the fucking king of dramatic."  
"Yes. Well, all the more reason for this to cease."  
"Please don't."  
"Goodbye."  
"There's nothing good in this bye."


	101. The right answer

10\. The right answer  
"So the man obviously had a grudge against the boss, and that's why he slept with the wife while the husband was in the basement busy being eaten alive by the rats, on a less boring note are you sleeping with Mycroft?" Sherlock rambled off as he stood opposite Greg in the morgue. The body lying on the slab between them. Greg was writing down everything Sherlock said.  
"Okay, I’ll bring in the wife. Yes I am.... wait; what?“ Greg looked up in bewilderment.   
"Just a phase you're going through or are it serious?" Sherlock completely ignored the confusion and walked closer.   
"Serious. Wait? How am I answering, I’m not saying anymore."  
"Yes you are, you just finished that coffee I made”  
"Coffee? What the hell Sherlock! Did you drug me?"  
"Yes. Sodium pentothal."  
"Sodium what?"  
"Truth serum." Greg walked closer angry and furious.   
"Did you drug me with freaking truth serum? Why? "  
"Do get the truth about you and Mycroft?”  
"And you couldn't just ask?” Like a normal bloody person?"  
"I want the right answer, the true answer.”  
"Why?"  
"He's my brother."  
"Yes, whom you go out of your way to humiliate and hurt as much as you can."  
"Wow, you’re angry with my treatment of him"  
"Of course I am. You have no idea how much he loves and care for you! You're his number one priority in life and yet you throw it back in his face. And it makes me angry because I wish I could beat some sense into you. But don't worry because I'll gladly spent every moment of my life ahead showing him how beautiful and amazing he his. I will give him the love and cherish him every waking moment because it's what he deserves. I'll give him my heart so that he knows how precious he is to me with every beat. I'll tell him every day how much I love him."  
They stared at one another, until they heard the door open. They turned and watched as Mycroft walked in.  
"How much did you hear?" Greg asked as he stepped closer.   
"All of it." Mycroft answered as his eyes bore into Greg's.   
"Then I should tell you I meant every word and not because Sherlock drugged my coffee, but because I never drank it:  
Both brothers looked at him in surprised  
"You didn't?” Sherlock asked confused. Greg shook his head.   
"It spilled it before I could actually drink it." He turned around to look at Sherlock.   
"If you have questions about me and Mycroft just asked, i have nothing to hide and will give you the truthful answer, may not always be the right one, but it will be real."


	102. Nothing but blue skies

11\. Nothing but blue skies

"This is a perfect day!" Greg exclaimed as he looked up at the sky.   
They were in the country visiting Mycroft's parents again, Greg took his niece with as she has a new fascination about horses and Mycroft knew some people in his home town that can help her learn more.   
So here they are, all outside having a picnic with the neighbours and the parents. Mycroft was in his full riding gear with little Sophia in front of him.   
Mycroft's parents adore her and have been spoiling her rotten. They just came back from a little ride and Sophia was a bundle of adrenalin.   
"Uncle Greg it was awesome! Uncle Myc took us to the little river and the horse splashed water all over!" She babbled as he lifted her out of the seat and carried her towards the blanket. Mycroft followed after a more relaxed pace. Sophia sat down next to Mycroft's mom as she poured her some juice. Greg sat down on the blanket that was half sat under a tree. Mycroft joined him.  
"Thank you." Greg said as Mycroft took his hand.  
"For what?”  
"Today, for giving her an amazing experience, she loves you so much."  
"She's very bright and eager. Besides it's my pleasure.  
"This is a perfect day, you, me family and nothing but blue skies."


	103. This good earth

12\. This good earth.  
"Why are we watching this?" Mycroft asked as he sat down with the popcorn.  
"Because it's awesome there are superheroes in it and they save the day." Greg replied as he threw the blanket over their legs.  
"It's a Hollywood movie based on mid-nineties comic books."  
"I know and I've read all of them. Iron Man was my favourite."  
"Iron Man? That's his name?" Mycroft asked with a frown. Greg turned to him, his eyes wide open.   
"You don't know who Iron Man is? What about the Incredible Hulk? Thor? Captain America? The Black Widow?"  
"None, with names like that they belong in some fantasy book."  
"Mycroft! My heart! Nononono. This won't do. First it's not fantasy books, its comic books, designed to support and help the nerds and geeks, by letting them know they can do great things. Secondly we are going to watch every Marvel movie and you are going to either read the books or Google every character. Right now we are watching the Avengers and then we are going to do some major research."  
"Gregory..."  
"Or no sex..."  
"What? You can't do that..."  
"Try me. Considering I find you irresistible, we should get started. Let our heroes save this good earth of ours."  
"This good earth?"  
"It's got comic books, chocolate and most importantly; you. It's a very good earth.


	104. Dare to hope

13\. Dare to hope  
"Did he say he'll be there?" Molly stopped with the autopsy to look at Greg. Greg was looking at the heart in the little metal basin on the counter.   
"Not in so many words."  
She walked closer.   
"What did he say?"  
"If the circumstances permitted he will most assuredly make a show." Greg replied as he continued to stare at the heart.   
Molly gave a small smile.   
"Fascinating isn't it?"  
"What?"  
"The human heart, such a small organ, yet contains infinite emotions. This can make you or break a man."  
"Don't let Sherlock hear that, he will waste no time to tell you that it is unnecessary sentiment and that the brain contains the information. But yes, you are right. It's all in the heart."  
"It's just an organ. Do you have a case?” They both turned to Sherlock who stood in the doorway.   
"No. I do not. Molly and I are discussing hearts and emotions and sentiment, unless you want to say something positive and nice, you can leave." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.   
"You're worried about whether Mycroft will actually follow through with the date.”  
"Dinner." Greg corrected.   
"My brother will not back out, he gave his word, and he apparently finds you interesting." With one last look he left leaving two confused people behind.   
"Well, I take it he will show now."  
"Interesting? What am I, science experiment?"  
"Of course not. I've seen how he looked at you, that other time, trust me, interesting is not the word I'd used."  
Greg smiled shyly back at her, if she only knew, but then again, maybe she is the only one who knows what it's like to lose your heart to a Holmes.   
"Greg, one of the things that make you stand out from all the rest, is that you have no idea how good and great you are. How remarkable, and if Mycroft is really as smart as everyone says he is, he will grab you and never let go."  
"Uhm, Molly I don’t know how to reply..."  
"Precisely my point. Don't. Smile and enjoy your dinner. Don't lose hope."  
"Hope."  
"Dare to hope Greg, with everything in you."


	105. Place

14\. Place

It was a dream come true, the venue were amazing, an old abandoned chapel, with half the walls and windows out. They chose it for the aesthetic values. (Mycroft's words) All around the room small lanterns and candles were placed with strategic little coloured glass and mirrors that gave the old ruin a magical and inspiring make over. It was perfect. Sherlock and everyone else were sceptical until they walked inside.   
A small number of people were seated in a circle around the room with the couple in the middle.   
They could see their family and friends, which for these two people were the same thing.   
In turn the family could see them, and witness every emotion as they unified their relationship.   
They made their own vows which they were reading together, as one unity.   
With a smile and a twinkle they looked at each other.   
"As places go, my heart was an old ruin until you transformed it into a beautiful magical place like this, with your light and love reflecting all over. Today your heart takes the place of mine and I'll carry it with the love and respect and trust it deserves. I'll cherish it with each beat until my last breath."


	106. Gather

15\. Gather

"Mycroft what are you doing?"  
"I gather." Greg looked at Mycroft as he was inspecting Greg's belongings, or some of them, he would turned it around in his hand and then close his eyes for a moment.   
"Gather? What are you gathering?"  
Mycroft just smiled and left the room.   
The next morning it was his breakfast as Mycroft would look at the way he ate, and what he ate.   
It continued for about a week and Greg stopped asking.   
A week later they were lying in bed and Mycroft leaned in closer.   
"Ask me again?"  
"What?"  
"The question that's been bothering you.”  
"Okay. Why have you been paying so close attention to me and what I was doing?"  
"I gather"  
"Gather what?”  
"You. Pieces of you in everything you do and the way you walk. The way you smile and laugh. I gather everything I can about you and then I placed it in my mind."  
"Like Sherlock's mind palace?”  
"Mine's infinite bigger."  
"And I'm there?"  
"You're in the centre. The balance; the axis of my life.


	107. Window /s

16\. Window /s

Mycroft was nervous, he wasn't used to be in a relationship, he had acquaintances yes, but not serious, but he never he gave himself so completely to a person.   
He always held back, he always had a wall somewhere to keep his distance.   
Now he was with Gregory and so far Greg was able to break every wall down with his love and tenderness.   
Mycroft tried, he really did, and he just couldn't keep his distance intact. The further he moved away the closer Greg came.  
He wants to tell him, he wants to tell him how he feels, but he is scared. Fighting and ruling the government is one thing, the heart?   
Completely different.   
They were in bed, Greg was holding Mycroft in his arms Mycroft's head on Greg chest, his ear right on Greg's heart. Greg was writing on Mycroft's back, at first he thought it random rubbing then he made out letters. Greg was writing love letters on his back. He knew he had to tell him.   
"Gregory?”  
"Hmm?"  
"According to legends and myths they say that one's eyes are the windows to one's soul."  
"That's true you know, I believe it."  
"You do?"  
"Yes. Don't you? I know you and Sherlock read people a hell lot better than anyone I know, but you can see a lot in their eyes."  
Mycroft moved up and shifted himself that he was sitting on top of Greg's hips; he placed his hands on either side of his face.   
"My?"  
"I need to tell you so much, but I can't, it stumbles in my throat."  
"It's okay; you'll tell me when you're ready."  
"Read my eyes."  
"What?"  
"Everything you need to know, if my eyes are the windows to my soul, you shall be able to read everything you need to know." Mycroft was desperate and he stared into Greg's eyes letting go of every wall, every distance and he let Greg see it all. All of Mycroft.   
They stared and Greg was so overcome with emotions that he swallowed a few times and tightens his grip on Mycroft's side.  
"Oh My! Same here. I see it all. I know. Me too. Me too. Love you. Every fibre, cell, blood vessel. Everything. Same."  
Mycroft's closed his eyes and let the one tear fall. Greg reached out and wiped it away then he pulled him close, gave him a kiss and just hugged him close to him.  
"I got you. I promise you tonight until my dying day, I'll protect your soul, so the windows will always shine as clearly and as beautiful as it's shining tonight."


	108. Home is...

17\. Home is....

Greg sat at his desk. Mount Everest being simulated as paper on both sides. He was tired and exhausted. His muscles were stiff and begging for a smooth, fluffy and comfortable bed. The problem was that it didn't matter in which bed or sofa - or office chair - he was sleeping in; it didn't compare to Mycroft's arms.  
He shook his head; he became such a sentimental old fool. If Sherlock were to see him now, he’ll never hear the end of it.  
With a soft sigh he bends down and continues to work.  
It was after ten that he got a call.  
"Gregory?"  
"My! Oh it's so good to hear your voice."  
"Really?"  
"Oh God yes. I think I should give you my favourite books and you can read them and I'll record it so I can listen to you whenever I want."  
"Every book you've read is a favourite."  
"Because there's something timeless in every book I've read, something I left behind in them."  
"I'm not sure I follow."  
"Sentiment my Love. So when are you coming back?"  
"That's why I'm calling; it’s taking longer than I thought."  
"Oh." Greg tried his best not to let the disappointment reflect in his voice but Mycroft heard it.  
"I have 24 hours to keep myself busy, and was wondering if you could meet me halfway, I know its short notice and not a lot of time..."  
"Where? I can come right now. Where?"  
He was so eager that he jumped up and grabbed his jacket.  
"Go to the roof, the helicopter will be there in 5 minutes, it will bring you here." Greg was already halfway out the office running to the stairs as he talked.  
"I'm on my way. I'll really see you?"  
"Yes. 24 hours just me and you, I’ll even give Anthea my phone."  
Greg felt like crying.  
"I'm going to kiss you senseless."  
"I can't wait."  
When Greg arrived at the non-disclosure location he didn't mind the least, he could barely contain himself as he walked towards the small house. The moment the door closed behind him he looked at Mycroft who stood in the middle of the room smiling. Greg smiled back and practically ran to him. Mycroft held him close as his life dependent on it.  
"I'm home, I’m finally home." Greg whispered in his neck.  
"Gregory dearest, this isn't our home."  
"I'm talking about this." Greg placed his hand on Mycroft's heart. Mycroft looked confused.  
"Home is where my heart is, my heart is with you, and therefore I'm home."


	109. Sacrifice

18\. Sacrifice

Greg sat on the bench overlooking the river. His mind just wandering over the last couple of days.   
He had asked Mycroft to take the weekend off to go with him to France. His partner from his old constable had died and Greg felt it was the perfect opportunity for them to make it a weekend getaway. They could go to the funeral the Friday morning and then stayed until Sunday.   
Mycroft said yes and on the Thursday morning he backed out. There was some emergency somewhere that he had to go. They had a small row about it. Greg felt that Anthea was more than capable to handle it, at least for the funeral but Mycroft insisted on missing the whole thing.   
To top it all off Mycroft accidentally let it slipped that he hated funerals and didn't really wanted to go anyway.   
Greg retaliated by asking if the whole emergency was just a setup, an excuse so that he can miss the funeral and the getaway. Things escalated from there on, and ended where Greg left the house with a door slamming and went to Paris alone. He even stayed for the weekend and promised himself he would enjoy it. He did, or at least he made the best of it he could. He left Sunday early and now in the sunset he was sitting here looking out the Thames. He didn't call Mycroft and he didn't answer when Mycroft did try to call.   
He wasn't ready to talk to him. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he was aware when Mycroft sat down next to him. He didn't acknowledged Greg, and continued to stare ahead. Greg was the first to speak.   
"Sorry I didn't answer, didn't want to keep you from saving the world."  
"I called you, I had a moment to spare."  
"Yeah, that's awesome Myc." He replied sarcastically.   
"I lied, Gregory."  
"Which part?"  
"The meeting and emergency. I wasn't ready to go away, I don't like funerals, and I'm not that fond of Paris. I realise now, that it was a grievous mistake on my part, because I should've made the sacrifice for you, you certainly had made a lot on your side for me. Please accept my apology."  
"You haven't apologised. You admitted the lie and the reason for it, you’ve admitted to the mistake, but you haven't exactly apologised."  
Mycroft stood up and got on his knees in front of Greg. Greg was shocked and surprised.   
"My dearest. Please accept my apologies for the mistake and the pain that I've caused. I've realised that if you don’t sacrifice for what you want, what you want becomes the sacrifice. And I want you. I desperately need and want you, and I won't allow you to become my sacrifice. I'd rather sacrifice to have you in my life. Please allow me to make it up to you. I love you."  
"I forgive you. I love you too you beautiful, majestic man. Come here and kiss me. "


	110. A sunny spot

19\. A sunny spot

Winter was cold, it was very cold. Greg would shiver and had to snooze his alarm two more times than necessary to get up.   
He wasn't really made for winter.   
Mycroft had the heating on all over the house, but it just wasn’t the same.   
It was one tough week, he was hardly home, and even Sherlock was stumped. They broke the case in the early hours of this morning. He finished the paper around noon and decided to take an early day.   
The moment he came home he quickly dressed in his slacks and an old t shirt he took the old overthrow on his and Mycroft’s bed and went to the observatory. Mycroft had an old set of sofas in there. It was their private little hideaway. He found the sofa next to the window, it was hot and warm he flung himself on the sofa and covered himself with the blanket. It was a beautiful and sunny spot and he was fast asleep in less than five minutes.   
When Mycroft came home he stood in the doorway and smiled at Greg. He was still curled up with the sun baking him. He walked closer and as he walked he kicked off his shoes and took of his jacket.   
"Gregory..."  
"Hmmm."  
"Move over." Greg stretched himself out and moved closer to the back so that Mycroft could climb in. They snuggled tight together and fall back asleep on the sofa with the sun shining down on them.


	111. Rise

20\. Rise.

One year.   
They have been together for one year.  
Mycroft had decided that he would ask Greg to move in with him.   
He had some time to think about his future, and especially with Gregory and what he wants out of the relationship.   
He came to a few conclusions.  
One: he loves Greg.   
Two: he is very serious about their relationship.   
Three: he wants Greg to move in with him.   
Four: well that depends on Greg and whether he wants to move in with him.   
First things first. He needs to tell Greg he loves him.   
He waited patiently for Greg to arrive. They were having dinner at his place, just the two of them, all alone and intimate.   
"Myc!" Greg's voice reverberated throughout the house.   
"In here." Mycroft called back. He shook his head. One year and he got some of Greg's mannerisms, especially the calling out loud.   
"Hey Love!" Greg came in the room and instead of looking around he set table he walked over to Mycroft and gave him a huge kiss.   
"Happy anniversary." Mycroft kissed back and smiled.   
"To you too my dearest.;  
"So what's for dinner?"  
"I made some lamb roast."  
"Lamb roast? You made lamb roast?"  
"Yes."  
"Bloody hell I love you."  
"You've said it before."  
"That I love you? Of course I do. You are the most amazing person I've ever met, I have no idea what you see in me, but whatever it is, I'm happy you see it and happy to be able to be with you and it's been one hell of a year, but the happiest of my life."  
"Move in with me?"  
"What?"  
"That is actually the third thing I wanted to discuss with you tonight?" Greg was so used to Mycroft's way of doing things he wasn't surprised about the idea he had a list, the fact that he wasn't following it was a bit strange.   
"Which was the first thing?" He asked slowly as he sat opposite Mycroft at the table. He poured some wine into their glasses.   
"One; I love you. Two; this is the most serious relationship I've ever been in and I wanted to rise to the occasion and tell you that I not only loved you but that I you want you to move in with me."  
"Rise to the occasion?"  
"Hmm. So are you moving in?"  
"Can I get my own room?"  
"No. Have to share with me." Mycroft gave a small shy smile and Greg gave one massive one.  
"Only if it's forever."  
"Always my dearest Gregory."  
"I love you."  
"I love you."  
It was quiet as they looked at each other; finally Greg looked at the food.   
"I love you and have no trouble sharing a room, but I'm quite hungry and not really in the mood to share my lamb roast that my other half made me."  
"I can live with that."  
"Good, I’ll share my bathtub with you though."  
"Good."


	112. Something changed

21\. Something changed

"Sherlock?" Greg walked up the stairs to the flat, a heaviness in his step. Sherlock was sitting at the table with his lab equipment, some sort of fleshy thing captured in the little glass slivers.   
"You don't have a case. Meaning it's personal, meaning I'm not interested." Sherlock didn't even look up at Greg who gave a sigh and looking around he sat down on the sofa. He pulled up his phone and opened the messages. He typed.   
"You're right, he didn't even look up at me. GL"  
"Leave it, he won't appreciate it, he’ll probably just deduce it when he feels like it. MH."  
"Can't. I owe it to him. I want to do this right. I'll let you know how it goes. GL"  
"You're a greater man than I deserve. See you tonight. MH"  
Greg placed his cell phone back in his jacket and looked at Sherlock.   
It took just about ten minutes for Sherlock to finally look at him.  
"Why are you here?" Standing up he walked closer.   
"Something changed." He commented as he gave Greg a quick once over.  
Greg nodded.   
"Something changed all right. For the better. I want to tell you in person, I know you can deduce it and read it, but I want to man up and tell you."  
Greg stood up so that he was face to face with him. Sherlock gave a small frown and started to make deductions in his head again.   
"Sherlock. I'm not here to ask permission, nor your blessing. I'm here to inform you and to ask you to be a man about this."  
"What are you on about? Why are you being so idiotic?"  
"I'm in a relationship."  
"I don't care who you spend your time with, it won't last, and she will cheat on you, just like the ex. It's the long hours and the fact that you're hardly home. Do you think it’s wise trying to date a woman again?"  
"It's not a woman. It will last, I love him."  
Sherlock blinked for a moment.   
"A man? And you think it will last? You who is on the wrong side of fifty, alone and erratic hours? "  
"He has even more erratic hours than I do. Please Sherlock. Don't get angry and lash out. I love him, he loves me and we're doing this."  
"Why are you trying to make me be okay with this? Do I know him?"  
"Yes. Better than me." Greg said the last part with soft smile that completely through Sherlock for a loop.  
"Better than you...?" His eyes went wide. He stepped closer so that he was towering over Greg. Their noses mere centimetres apart. Sherlock said only one word. Growled was a more fitting description.   
"Mycroft."  
"Yes. Me." They turned to look at Mycroft standing in the doorway. He looked flushed and without an umbrella. He obviously rushed to get here. He stared at Sherlock with a look near the edge of understanding and desperation.   
"My." Greg whispered and immediately smiled as he walked closer to him. Mycroft turned his eyes from his brother to Greg and Sherlock could see the softness that creeped into the corners of his eyes. He turned back to his brother.   
"We are in a relationship, Gregory is moving in with me. Don't spoil this for us."  
There was so much he wanted to say but couldn’t, he gave the smallest of nods and then watched as they walked out.


	113. Throes of spring

22\. Throes of spring

"Oh God where's a kidnapping when you need one?" Greg groaned as he leaned over and slammed his head on the table, his arms folded on top as to break the impact. Mycroft looked up from his desk in uttered bewilderment. Anthea who have been sitting in the chair next to him were just as surprised. She tried to look as inconspicuous as she could while waiting for her boss to take the lead.   
"Excuse me?" He finally managed. Greg slammed his head down a few more times before he looked up.   
"Sorry that came out all wrong."  
"The grammar was quite correct Greg; it was the subject that is questioning." Anthea replied as she frowned. Greg gave her a cheeky smile and leaned back.  
"What I meant was not a kidnapping in the serious way, more of a Mycroft way."  
"Mycroft way? Why on earth do I get a kidnapping named after me?"  
"Really?" Greg asked with a pointed look, a smirk threatened to break free. Mycroft raised his eyebrows making Greg finally break out in laughter.   
"My bad. I have no idea why I would name a kidnapping after you, but anyway, we have a theme for our annual department dinner."  
"What is it that you'd rather be otherwise disposed of?"  
He looked at his phone and opened the picture, it was floral and colourful.   
"Throes of spring."  
Mycroft read it and tried to keep his composure, and Anthea tried to hide her giggling behind a cough.   
"Oh my, I won't be able to accompany you, I have very important meeting."  
"I haven't given you the date yet, and there isn't one on the picture. Are you looking for an excuse?"  
"Not at all my dearest."  
"Fine can I take Anthea; she can dress up in a little pink floral dress with a matching hat, and some weird floral pattern accessories." He looked at her with a wink. She stood up and moved behind his chair.   
"You are very fortunate I like you Inspector, I’ve hurt for less." She smiled at Mycroft who smiled back.   
Greg turned in his chair.   
"Come on, floral patterns will never go with Mycroft's legs."


	114. Feather

23\. Feather /s

Greg had been searching for weeks on end and he couldn't find a suitable gift for Mycroft. The best /worst part was that his birthday was in less than two weeks and he had no idea what to get him.   
He didn't really like the idea of asking for help and he very much doubt that Sherlock would give him some truly good advice.   
Luckily the case led him to this store and it was perfect. He could order and custom made the gift and at the same be covered by the case. No one would know. 

"Gregory you do realise that you didn't had to give me a gift?" Mycroft asked as he looked at the little package next to his breakfast, on the little tray that Greg brought up to their room.   
"I know. I wanted too."  
"You are in itself a gift to me, I have everything I can possibly need right here in this bed with me."  
"I love you too, but I don't think me as a gift will be satisfying till we are old and grey."   
"It will. To me. Every day with you is a gift."   
"You are such a romantic, you know that? Just open it." Mycroft wanted to say more but the puppy dog look he was getting, changed his mind. Slowly he opened the package. There was a real leather bound journal with his initials inscribed in golden curvy letters, a small pot of ink and one long smaller wooden box, the kind for a pen, but much longer. With delicacy and restraint he opened the box and gasped.   
"Gregory!"  
"Do you like it? I know it's not very modern but I saw it and knew it would fit you, at your home office, probably, as you write way to fast and the documents you do sign do not require..."  
Greg was silenced by a gasping for air kiss. When Mycroft finally let go, his eyes were a bit more shiny than normal.   
"A real authentic black feather quill? I've always wanted one, ever since I was a boy. It's perfect. Thank you."  
"According to legend they say a black feather is symbolic to protection and wisdom, which you have in buckets, but most importantly to let you know you are not alone. I'll always be here with you. Heart, body and soul. Happy birthday."


	115. All that glitters

24\. All that glitters

Greg was angry and oh so very upset at this moment. The suspect who was the murderer as he decided to run and tried to kill Greg as he did was an actor. A stage actor; who was in the middle of a play.   
That wasn't what upset Greg.   
It wasn't even the fact that the play was Priscilla, queen of the desert and was dressed from head to toe in sequins, feathers and glitter. He could deal with that.   
He wasn't even upset as he and Sherlock in the chase got thrown into the wardrobe with extra make-up and sequins and glitter, and by the time they caught and survived the verbal abuse and profanities and chase that both of them was covered in glitter as well.   
After all that, they got cornered by Mycroft, which admittedly, was good as he took them home, without being the centre of attention. Sherlock and Greg had to sit on one side - to minimise - the glitter contamination. Mycroft kept quoting Tolkien and "all that is gold does not glitter, not all who wander are lost" John kept giggling and trying to stifle his laugh.   
No.  
What really got him angry and Sherlock was when John declared his title for the blog, even Mycroft gave a few ideas.   
"From detectives to performers: a glittering fairy tale."

"Catching a murderer: for once the glittering fairy-tale we we're made to belief."

Needless to say it was a long drive home.


	116. Wake laughing

25\. Wake laughing

Greg was bored.   
He tried reading but he forgot he was nearing the end so an hour later the book was finished.   
Then he tried once again to squeeze out of the bed, which resulted in Mycroft grabbing tighter.   
For someone sick and fighting a cold, Mycroft sure had some strength in his body. He looked around and his eyes landed on the pen.   
Well, if you're desperate, you improvise. He shifted so that he could lean over his bed partner.   
Taking the pen he started writing on his skin. In beautiful fluid, no wait lanky and rough handwriting he wrote. Love notes, doodles and all kinds of things that he could think off.   
When he reached that soft spot near the back, halfway under his arms Mycroft started moving.   
Greg gave a wide smile. Mycroft was ticklish. He renewed his efforts and surely Mycroft started laughing in his sleep. To him it was beautiful and he continued until Mycroft woke up laughing.   
"Gregory what are you doing?"  
"I was bored, so I decided to draw on you."  
"Draw on me? With pen? In ink? On my skin?"  
"Yeah sorry Love, couldn’t find the paper. I'll wash it off."  
"Can you take a picture?"  
"Sure." Greg picked up his phone and snapped a few shots. He handed the phone to Mycroft. He looked at it and gave a weird shy hidden smile.   
"I’m not as opposed to the idea, as I initially was.”  
"Shall I continue?"  
"Might as well. I'm not ready for a shower yet."  
"Come here."


	117. 2 PM

26\. 2 pm  
"Unbelievable." Mycroft muttered as he tried to squeeze himself into half an inch of corner to get away from the rain.   
It was very sunny and beautiful when he went outside for a walk to clear his head.   
He had another hour before a very important meeting and decided a walk around the park would be a good way to clear his mind and prepare for the meeting.   
Now, thirty minutes later and it was dripping with a light and soft shower.   
His suit was half wet and the small water droplets were completely ruining his hair.   
"If Sherlock saw him now!" He mumbled irritated as he tried to move.   
He was just about ready to give up and walk back to his office when he saw him.  
"Gregory!" He yelled.   
Gregory turned to him with a huge smile and dry as he was standing under Mycroft's umbrella.   
He quickly walked over and Mycroft quickly ducked underneath as well.   
"Hello, glad to see me?"  
"Oh yes."  
"Me or the umbrella?"  
"Both. Thank you for showing up, how did you know I was here?"  
"Went by your office, Anthea told me you were here, getting your geared up for a meeting, and that you didn't take your umbrella. Tsk tsk Mycroft, that wasn't very smart."  
"It was sunny and clear, why would it all of a sudden rain on a sunny afternoon."  
"Karma. One; it's England, two; it's summer, three; Mycroft Holmes went out without his umbrella. You tempted fate, it’s how it works."  
"That's not very logical, practical or factual."  
"Yet I'm the one that's dry. Oh come on, I can always leave and take the umbrella with me?"  
"It's mine."  
"Oi, don't make me feel inferior to the umbrella." Greg joked as Mycroft tried to hide his smile as well.   
"You know My, you look incredibly handsome in the rain, half wet, the water droplets shining in your hair, makes me want to kiss you senseless right now."  
Mycroft's eyes widen in surprise and a red blush spreading across his face.   
"It's broad daylight."  
"I'll kiss you at night too if you'd like. So can I? "  
"Can you what?"  
"Kiss those raindrops from your upper lip; I'm quite jealous of the rain at this moment."  
"I wouldn't be opposed to the idea." Mycroft smiled back and took the umbrella out of Greg's hands, with the other he pulled him close, bowing his head he lowered the umbrella to hide their faces.   
"Who would've thought here we'd be making out in public, in the rain at 2pm on a summer's day?"  
"Gregory. Shut up and kiss me."


	118. Sundays are for . . .

27\. Sundays are for...  
Before Greg entered his life Mycroft worked seven days a week. He hardly took the time of to relax and just be.  
Nowadays it's a different story.   
In the beginning stages of their relationship Mycroft would wake up at Greg's or Greg would wake up at his home and then they would sleep and cuddle till about late afternoon.   
To Mycroft's that would be one of his ultimate and favourite parts of the day. The cuddling is all good and well, but it would be the conversation or just the quality time that he would treasure. They would open up to each other and confide in one another, or they would plan ahead, for the future.   
Sometimes they won't talk at all and would just hold each other.   
When they finally made it out of the bed Greg would make him watch some football and educate him on the game, and if not a game on TV, it would be a real game and he would cheer Greg on as he played, and then they would have lunch.   
And the evening they would either watch a movie or read.   
The whole day would be about them and spending time together. Mycroft sighed and picked up his phone. Putting in the number he waited.   
"This is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Sorry to miss your call, please leave your details and I'll call back as soon as possible."   
He put the phone down and looks at Greg in the bed.   
"It's Sunday. Please wake up. Sundays are for us, being together, this isn't what I had in mind."


	119. Don't blink

28\. Don't blink  
"Don't blink." Greg ordered himself as he stared at Mycroft.   
This wasn't how he wanted his day to go.   
In fact this was the last thing on his list.   
His eyes were locked on Mycroft, who at the moment was looking extremely unnerving and anxious. His lips were in a tight line, white with pressure. His hands were clasped on the barrier the leather gloves stretch to the limit. Every now and then he would swallow a deep breath trying to calm his racing heart. Greg wanted nothing more than to walk over hand tell him it's going to be alright.   
But he can't. He didn't know if it will be fine. Today might just be the day he dies.  
'Don't blink.'   
"Sir?" The man next to him broke through his thoughts. He didn't look away from Mycroft.   
"Yes."  
"We are almost done. The sandbags are in place and now we just have to put the suit on you. Stay calm and still."  
"I will."  
'Don't blink.'  
He stood still as they slowly wrapped him in the special bomb suit.   
The sweat drops were cascading down his face in rivulets His clothes were sticking to him as though the was caught in the rain, however he was caught in a laser beam attached to a small bomb. The bomber wanted to take out half of the police force when he saw it and alerted the necessary people. In an instant it was all over the news; bomb at police ceremony. Terror in the streets of London.   
Mycroft was there in ten minutes. Sherlock and John in twenty minutes. Greg was the hero, or would be, if he survived as he was the one who managed to evacuate everyone before the laser caught him. A little red dot on his chest. He really hoped that he wasn't going to be blown to pieces in front of the entire world watching.   
'Don't blink.'  
The squad made two barriers to keep people at a safe distance and one in front of him.   
Mycroft's people took charge, the plan was to create a barrier in front of him, which according to the new technology was quite strong and could save his life if they are unable to disable the bomb.   
As an extra, they would also suit him up in the latest bomb suit, with a cable attached to pull him back. If the bomb were to go off he has 3 seconds, and the cable will pull him about four metres back, also increasing his chances for survival.   
'Don't blink.'  
He is really hoping it will work.   
"Sir we are ready. We are going to attempt the disabling of the bomb."  
Greg just nodded as he continued to stare ahead at Mycroft.   
Sherlock and John was standing next to Mycroft, both trying to be calm but failing.   
After ten minutes everything stopped as the technician call out.  
"Unable to disable. We have 30 seconds before it blows. Get the cable ready."  
Mycroft gasped and tried to get through the barrier, eyes locked on him. Sherlock grabbed him as the technician grabbed Greg and stood in front of him blocking his face.   
"Mycroft!" He yelled as he was pulled back right before the explosion and everything went black. 

When he opened his eyes he was lying on a stretcher the suit was off, leaving just the sticky wet clothes. He didn't mind as his eyes focused on bright blue ones. A smile broke through his cracked lips.   
"My."  
Mycroft leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. He didn't say anything as their hands intertwined and the smiles mirrored.


	120. I write

29\. I write   
"Do you write?"  
"Yeah. I write in a journal every chance I get. Why?"  
Greg asked as he looked at Mycroft, who was standing at the doorway with a shopping bag. The one he brought home after work. He smiled at Mycroft's curious expression.   
"I found this on the table; it’s full of colour pens and a new journal. Is it a gift for someone or for you?"  
"Nope. It's mine." Greg answered as he took the bag from Mycroft’s hands and pulled the stuff out. A beautiful black leather strap journal with a range of colour pens.  
"Why colour pens?"  
"Because I like to write in my journal with coloured pens. I even occasionally draw in it." Mycroft looked astonished.   
"You do?"  
"Yes. Not big things though. Just little doodles and stuff."  
"What do you write about?"  
"My day, things I want to remember, you."  
"Me?"  
"Hmm. Mostly in red."  
"Red. The colour of danger and rage and..."  
"Passion, love, boldness and courage. To name a few."  
"And Sherlock? John?"  
"Depends. I write mostly about us."  
"So you write."  
"I write."  
"Want to see or read it?"  
"You'd let me?"  
"Yes. I trust you. It's not bad things or incriminating."  
"I'd be delighted."


	121. Flip side

30\. Flip side.   
This was awkward to say the least. Greg was attending dinner with Mycroft and his parents and John and Mary and oh look Mrs. Hudson was also present.   
Mycroft made sure that he and Sherlock were at different ends of the table, or tried to.   
Turns out it was a round table.   
Greg was taking notes, for some reason the Holmes brothers behaved when around their parents, they were sweeter than the sugar in candy canes.   
Although Greg doubts that even with the mental notes he will be able to get this reaction from them.   
"More wine Sherlock?" Mycroft asked as he lifted the bottle.   
"Please brother and thank you." Sherlock replied as he lifted his wine glass and held it out for Mycroft to fill.  
"You're welcome." Greg and John stared them then towards each other. Both with the expression of "did that just happened?"  
"Everything all right Gregory?" Mycroft inquired.   
"Hm. Oh yeah. All’s good." Shaking his head he continued to eat.  
Later that night he got a text from John. 

"Did that happen? JW

"Apparently. I'm still trying to get over the shock." GL

"Felt like something out of a British BBC drama." JW 

"Me too." GL

"If that's the influence of their parents we should let them move to London." JW

"Welcome to the flip side of reality." GL.

"Or a messed up Doctor Who episode." JW


	122. May day

1\. May day   
"Are you going to admit it yet?"  
"Gregory you do realise you can be the most stubborn and tenacious man when the situation call for it." Mycroft exclaimed as he ate the last bit of fries on his plate.  
"I know, it’s one of the things you love about me." Greg retorted as pushed his plate away and pick up his glass of beer.  
"You know Love, this beer is amazing."  
"You're just waiting for me to admit that I enjoyed the day."  
"Yup. But its okay, take your time, I’ll just sit here, drink my beer and have another one if you still can't admit it."  
"Fine."  
"Fine as in I'll admit it or fine I can wait this out with beer?"  
"I had fun today."  
"You did?"  
"Yes. I'm real glad that you convinced me to take the day off and come to the celebrations with you and I really enjoyed the markets. "  
"Better than the ponchy office and transport paperwork?" He asked while giving him a cheeky wink.  
"Quite."  
"See? Told you that the May Day celebrations are good."  
"You were right."  
"Awesome, order us both another beer won't you?"


	123. Bread and honey

2\. Bread and honey  
"Gregory what's this?" Mycroft face was contorted in a sceptical manner as he looked at the bag on the counter.   
"Shopping."  
"I can see that, my question is where on earth did you buy this big monstrosity?"  
"It's a bread My."  
"It's double the size of normal bread."  
"And I paid less too."  
"Gregory, I haven't seen bread like this since we've been visiting my parents. The bakery there is the only place they sell these. Homemade and natural ingredients."  
"I know. With the freshest honey you can find."  
"Did you go to the country?"  
"Yes. Had the afternoon off and I remember you said you had a craving for homemade bread with thick honey and well I got you some. Oh your parents says hi"  
"Gregory what would I do without you?"  
"Not have an awesome sandwich."


	124. Hello /Goodbye

3\. Hello / goodbye   
"Time to say goodbye Mycroft."  
"Sarah Brightman Gregory?"  
"Don't care. Let it go."  
"Frozen?"  
"Aaaw you remember the movie."  
"Sophia made me watch it seven times. I can recite the whole script."  
"My poor baby. Luckily she didn't put you in the corner. That would be very dirty and no dancing."  
"Gregory."  
"Oh right. Back to the point. Say goodbye to the song and delete it."  
"It's on the original cd, I can't delete it."  
"The one on your phone and iPod. The cd can go into the cupboard."  
"I still stand by that she's a formidable young woman with an outstanding voice."  
"I don't disagree. You have an eidetic memory and can remember the whole Frozen movie after seven times, you've been listening to the song the entire week. Is your memory failing you there? "  
"No. Don't be ridiculous."  
"Ridiculous." Greg finished for him.   
"Then delete the song or else?”  
"What are you going to do?"  
"Play my sex pistols version of God Save the Queen and make it my morning alarm."  
"You wouldn't dare!"  
"I would. Oh I can hear the guitar as I open my eyes, maybe play the chorus with my fingers on your chest. Bam wham doom."  
He lifted his hands as to play some chords.   
"Fine! You win. Am deleting the song look." Mycroft held out his phone so Greg can see the screen.   
Delete "Hello"  
Mycroft made a show of it as he pressed the button.   
"There 'hello' deleted. Happy?"  
"Very. You know My, one of my favourite is ' set fire to the rain.'


	125. Pattern

4\. Pattern   
"There has to be a pattern."  
"Sherlock! We can't just break into Greg's flat!" John whispered but nonetheless followed Sherlock through the door. Surprisingly is the fact that Sherlock didn't break-in, he used a key. A key that's hanging on his key chain.   
Once inside he quickly shut the door and turned to John.   
"There has to be a pattern."  
"You said that, and the only explanation is that Greg is using new aftershave. Have you ever considered that just maybe he felt like a change, or the shop was running a special?"  
"But it smells good."  
"You like the smell of his aftershave?"  
"No. I said it smells good. It suits him."  
"Let me guess, you wrote a monograph about aftershaves."  
"No. But I should. That's a good idea John."  
They were looking around the flat and with determination Sherlock walked to the bedroom. Sighing John followed.   
"The bed is made. Immaculately." Sherlock commented. "He never used to make the bed before."   
"You know, I’m getting a little bit concerned with your intimate knowledge about a man whose name you don't remember."  
Sherlock just grunted in response and opened the bed side drawer.   
"John." Frowning he walked closer to see that in the drawer was the usual, a book, glasses but most importantly, a tube of lube and a packet of condoms."  
"Well he is single..." John tried.   
"He is sleeping with a man. A neat and articulate man, hence the bed and why the flat is in order. It's serious."  
"Well. Good for Greg. You were right there's a pattern, but we can save the rest for another day. Let's go."  
"No. I'm waiting for him to come back."  
"And then? Interrogate him in his home? Ask him who's he sleeping with? "  
"Yes."  
"It's a Friday night, if he is seeing someone maybe he's not coming back tonight."  
"The street cameras. Come on John we can get the information from the cameras."  
"The cameras? Which Mycroft control? "  
"Yes. Let's go annoy him."  
As they made their way to the front door it burst open with very weird noises. Sherlock smiled triumphantly… right until he saw who Greg was making out with. It wasn’t difficult to see even though they were wrapped around each other with shirts undone and coats already on the floor. Greg had the man pinned against the door. When the man lifted his head to give Greg access to his neck he opened his eyes and froze.   
“My?” Greg mumbled.  
“MY!” Sherlock yelled.


	126. Cinco de mayo

5\. Cinco de mayo

"Ah I wish I could celebrate with you?”  
The near husky voice of Greg vibrated through the phone right down Mycroft's back. He closed his eyes.   
"Me too. It's such a rich history and vibrant celebrations. The food is exquisite and the colours amazing."  
"How come you're not outside already? "  
"Too many people. Too much noise. Too many colours." Mycroft explained in a monotone, his head somewhere else.   
"You just went lyrical about the colours and stuff?"  
"Reading from the pamphlet. Admittedly the food is excellent."   
"We should go out for Mexican when you come back then. Then we go for some dancing and enjoy our own Cinco de mayo celebrations."  
"The celebrations originally were in remembrance of a battle."  
"We have a battle with Sherlock, we can celebrate that, but without him. I don’t think he'll appreciate being a third wheel."  
"Heavens forbid. I've got to go, may I call you later tonight?"  
"Whenever, wherever. I'll pick up for you."  
"Take care."  
"Enjoy Mexico and the celebrations. Oh get one of those big hats, we can play with it. ..."  
"Play.... Gregory!"  
"Just bring one you sexy man."


	127. Bloom

6\. Bloom

It's been a week. Sherlock jumped off a building a week ago. It feels like a lifetime. So many changes, in such a short time. Greg was moving the streets as if in a daze, eyes open but unseeing. His feet so used to the pathways that he hardly had to pay attention.   
Suspended, broken reputation and lost friends that was what he was reduced to.   
His feet took him to the river, the exact spot where the security guard was dumped. So many years ago. That was when some of the madness started. A fake painting, so many lives ruined.   
When he looked up he could see the whole scene play out in his mind's eye.   
It's all different now. Sighing he turned to walk back when his eye caught the board. It was written on a black board in white chalk.  
"If flowers can teach themselves how to bloom after winter passes, so can you."  
He gazed at it until the wind and cold saturated through his coat into his bones.   
With a small smile he pulled his scarf tighter and walked home.


	128. When I hear

7\. When I hear

 

"You know I have a special ringtone for when you call."  
Mycroft narrowed his eyes. Gregory smiled and held out his hands.   
"When I say special it's not like 'oh my word it's him, the boy who stole my heart and is actually calling me' it's more like 'Mr. X-Files who is on my case instead of stalking through the CCTV cameras' special."  
If possible Mycroft's eyes narrowed even more and the deep swallow he just took does not look very promising to Greg. He just shrugged and continues to stroll to the open seat at the small table in the middle of the room.   
"When I hear that ringtone I just know I'm in for a long night. So what is it this time?"  
"I need you to sign some papers and look at these files. If you are capable of signing quickly, then it will not be a long night as you say." Mycroft handed him two thin brown files with a blank cover page.   
"What, no 'for your eyes only' or 'top secret' red stamp? This is a bit anti-climactic Mycroft."  
"You do not have the necessary security clearance for those." Mycroft's voice was dripping with a hint of boredom and long suffering patience. To his surprise Greg smiled even broader than before.   
"So they exist? And you in your 'minor position in transport' have those? What does it contain? New age silver tracks for the Underground? Special odour resistant seats for the cabs?"  
"Detective Inspector. ..."  
"Yeah yeah. I'll shut up now."   
There was a comfortable silence as Mycroft was busy on his phone and Greg was signing the necessary documents and papers. Just before he was done Mycroft frowned then turned his eyes to Greg. The man constantly amazed him, and just maybe he may feel a little attraction to the man. All of a sudden he wondered what 'special' ringtone Greg has for him. Making his mind up he pressed a button.   
The warehouse erupted with guitars and drums   
"Jack Flash, rocket man, Sergeant Pepper and the band   
Ziggy, Benny and the Jets, take a rocket   
We just gotta fly   
I can take you thru the center of the dark   
We're gonna fly   
On a collision course to crash into my heart   
I will be your, I will be your, I'll be your   
Rocket yeah satellite of love   
Rocket yeah satellite of love   
Rocket yeah satellite of love   
Rocket baby! C'mon, I'll be your satellite of love”  
Greg took out his phone and put it on the table while it rang. Smirking he folded his arms and leaned back as he tried to memorised the look of horror on Mycroft's face. When it switched to voicemail and silence was once again in the room Mycroft tried to say something but no words came out.  
"Wondering what the song is?" Greg asked. Mycroft nodded.   
"Def Leppard. Song called Rocket."   
"It's ..it's. .."  
"Awesome I know. You should listen to it. Might surprise you."  
"Why rockets?"  
"Actually. Was thinking that 'Hysteria' and 'two steps behind' was more appropriate but hey." They sat staring at each other for a while. Mycroft trying to figure out what he is trying to say and Greg slowly stop smiling as he knew he said more than he should. Finally he got up.   
"See you around." Mycroft didn't reply as he watched Greg leave. He quickly picked up his phone again.   
"Anthea? Can you get me a few songs?"


	129. Weathered

8\. Weathered 

"Is this that old vintage look that is back in style, if so, I should dig in the basement for my old varsity clothes." Greg's eyes roamed the room as he walked towards the balcony and threw open the big doors. The wind swept up the curtains and started dancing in the air. Mycroft just stared as Greg closed his eyes to let the sun warm his face.   
Locking the room's door he took of his jacket and strolled over Greg and wrapped his arms around him. He buried his face in his neck.   
"It's called weathered."  
"Weathered? So that's why I feel so at home here. From now on refer to me as your weathered partner instead of old and vintage." Mycroft pulled back.   
"Oh please I've never referred to you as old or vintage, and I most certainly will not put you in the same sentence as weathered."  
"You just did." Greg winked  
"Oh do be quiet."  
"Ooh so demanding. Make me Mr. Holmes."   
Mycroft did. Good thing the view was a private beach.


	130. The night sky

9\. The night sky  
Greg  
Looking back at the chapters of my life I've come to the conclusion that I am an empty night sky, filled with a skyline and empty streets in different shades of night and darkness.   
My sunrise only arrived with you. You brought the light back and with it the unveiling of the skyline of my heart. You filled the streets with hope and kindness. With a garden of love and a house of smiles.   
You brought the summer, the light, and ocean of sunrise into a desert that was so desolate and filled with a maze of fear and rejection. I'm not afraid to admit that I have succumbed to sentiment as I write this letter. You see I need and should have told you this when you were here, but you're not. You left this morning and I'm not sure where to. I already feel the sun setting, the night sky taking hold of me. I don’t want it. I want you. With you the skies have stars.   
I’m so sorry for the things I've said. Please don't let me go. Can you believe it; I'm begging you to give me another chance.   
If you’re smart you shouldn't. I've got to go. 

"My?" The voice was soft and brittle. Mycroft stood up and turned to Greg.   
"Gregory." By some miracle he could keep the tears at bay.   
"What are you doing here?"  
"Did you know that your office cameras are such a good quality that I can read it?" He pointed towards the journal entry on the desk. Mycroft look stunned, but recover quickly.  
"Impossible. How did you get access?"  
"Anthea."  
They just stared at one another. Blue eyes surrendering to brown eyes. Brown eyes bringing back the dawn.


	131. Sing it out

10\. Sing it out.

Mycroft knew what he does on days like these, when sad songs become your play list and you forgot how to smile like you meant it.   
It the nine years that Mycroft knew him, this has happened about a dozen times.   
He would disappear for a weekend at the most go to some club, usually a club that would play some heavy rock as well as old school rock music. He would get smashing drunk and stand as close to the blaring speakers as he could and sing out loud as he could.   
It's not that Greg was a bad singer, on the contrary, he just needed to be close to the music. He needed the drums and guitar in his head, his veins and in his heart. It needs to be louder than anything else in his life. He wants it to consume him from all the sides and with every lyric and beat it would make him okay again.   
But that's in the past because the last time it happened he passed out in a bed and breakfast as he was in Birmingham and out of reach. Mycroft needed to get in contact and he was missing, so Mycroft went all Bond on him trying to find him. That was one hell of a fight and conversation.   
So they compromised:  
Greg would stay in London in Mycroft's home actually. And have his moment.   
Mycroft built a soundproofed room with very loud speakers and a mini bar.  
That way whenever the going gets tough, Greg goes into his little rock room and Mycroft can sleep well knowing his Gregory was safe and sound, or loud to be technical.


	132. Motherhood

11\. Motherhood 

"Motherhood suits you." Greg was standing with his arms folded in the doorway, scrunching his lips to keep himself from laughing out loud.   
"This isn't funny." Mycroft replied with barely contained patience.   
"It's a little funny, hold on I need to take a video." With that he ran out of the kitchen.   
"Gregory!" Forgetting about an overzealous partner he continued with his apparent 'motherhood'.   
"Okay smile for the camera!" Greg came waltzing back in his phone ready.   
Mycroft gave an exasperated sigh as he looked back at Greg.   
"You're really taking a video?"  
"Yes." Gregory stepped closer with the phone steady in front of him. "You know Love I was thinking that John has his blog, maybe I should start a Holmes vlog."  
"A Holmes what?" Mycroft stopped what he was doing when the little screech drew his attention back to the floor where he was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire.   
"Vlog. It's like a blog but using video instead of words. I'm no Hemingway you know?" Greg sat down opposite Mycroft.   
"But apparently you are George Lucas."  
"Oh wow! You know George Lucas? Anyway tell the camera our brand new addition to the family."  
"It's a cat."  
"Nononono it's a small little kitten with the eccentric name, like her daddy Mycroft, of Tardis- because her daddy is a secret Doctor who fan."  
"Her eyes happened to be the same shade of blue." Mycroft defended. Greg laughed and shifted so he was in front of the camera.   
"Little Tardis was rescued this afternoon by My who found her in the alleyway next to his office where she was drowning in the rain, then he send his minions to buy some necessary stuff, and brought her home, no she is making a little home in a beautifully designed cat basket with an accompanying litter basket in the same range. And since we know Mycroft is a BAMF she will have her own personalised food and water bowl delivered tomorrow. Tardis say hello to the camera." He moved the camera towards the cat which was licking and purring as she played with Mycroft hands.   
"Gregory when you're done with your Oscar movie can we go to bed?"   
"Only if Tardis sleep in the en-suite bathroom." Greg replied as he stood up with Mycroft in tow the basket in his hands.   
"Why? It might get cold, she would be better off in the room itself."  
"Then you must put her half under the bed so she can't see us."  
"Why on earth not?"  
Greg turned to the camera as he answered.  
"Because she is way too young to see how I reward kitten heroes."


	133. Overheard

12\. Overheard

 

Greg came home in a sad and disappointed mood his heart in the bottom of his shoes. With every step he took it was being trampled and broken a little more than before. He just couldn't wrap his head around the conversation that he accidentally overheard.   
Mycroft was talking to Sherlock; he was on his way to give Sherlock a new case when he heard his voice. He originally thought he was talking to John until he heard Mycroft’s voice. The fact that his normal black car wasn't in the street completely passed his mind.   
The conversation on the other hand was branded into his head and the burning was turning his heart to ash.  
"Are you serious about this dear brother, Lestrade will not just let it go without a fight."  
"I'm certain; I’ve taken the necessary steps to ensure he has no choice but to walk away."  
"I'll admit he is very fond of you, and this is big, he is a proud man, you know."  
"I know Sherlock. But I have no other option but to give in and let him give it up."  
Gregory didn't listen anymore he softly left the flat. Mycroft was tired of him, and apparently he is so thorough that he already had the necessary in steps in place to make sure he had no other choice but to walk away.   
Well in that case he will make it easy for him. Taking the rest of the day off he went home and started to pack.   
He loves him but he will not be a burden for the man, he will be man enough to walk away even though every step will break his heart.   
He was just about finish with the first luggage bag when the door opened.   
"Gregory?" Greg turned when he heard the shock and disbelief in Mycroft's voice. Mycroft stood in the doorway, his whole face scared.  
"You wanted me out, so I'm going." Greg replied as he made to walk past Mycroft.   
"Gregory what on earth are you talking about?"  
"Mycroft, please don't make this harder. I overheard you and Sherlock today, you want me to give it up, and even have gone so far as to take the necessary steps to make sure I have no choice. Well you don't have to take the necessary steps, I'm going." He tried again to move past him but Mycroft took him in a stronghold and before he knew it he was on the floor with Mycroft above him.  
"That's not what happened!" Mycroft cried out.  
He looked down at Greg their eyes inches away.   
"Myc?" Greg was so shocked that he could only stared at Mycroft.   
"You only heard some. I was talking about your flat."  
"What?"   
"I want you to give up your flat and move in with me."  
"The steps to ensure?"  
"Was thinking of either rats or some other infestation."  
"Sherlock said I'm proud."  
"He meant giving up on your flat and to live here, without paying. We both know that this is bigger and much more than you’re used to. Please say yes."  
"You've already taken steps, when were you planning on telling me?"  
"I wasn't."  
"What?"  
"Well. With a burst geyser or something I was going to suggest that you move here for the time being..."  
"And what I just never left?"  
"Something like that."  
"You don't want me to leave but move in?"  
"That's correct."  
They sat there for a while, Mycroft on top of Greg. Both not sure how to proceed. After a while Greg took a breath and smiled.   
"So... misunderstanding."  
"That would appear so."  
"Is that how you handle the Government?"  
"Excuse me?"   
"Oh I was thinking of a rat infestation or burst geyser or.... or... doesn't sound concrete, no wait I get it. Do you sit on top of them until they surrender? “Mycroft leaned in closer and whispered as his teeth grazed Greg's neck.  
"Yes. Anthea patch my suits up for sitting on people."  
"In that case I totally surrender."  
"Does that mean you'll move in?”  
"I may need some persuasion."  
"I can do that, I'm excellent at negotiations."  
Greg smiled and quickly stopped Mycroft as he bend down to kiss him.  
"My. I'm sorry for misunderstanding."  
"I'm sorry for not just talking to you."


	134. Unstitch

13\. Unstitch  
"It's all unstitch now." Gregory laughter filled the room with Mycroft looking as though he had no idea how to act.   
"Unstitch?" Mycroft finally asked when he got his voice back.   
Greg leaned over not even bothering to cover himself with some clothes or a sheet.   
"That's what my grandma used to say when her linens ripped."  
"This is 100% Silk, it's supposed to very strong." Mycroft was still stunned and staring at the once one piece scarf that is currently ripped in half. Gregory was still laughing as he took one piece of the silk and looked at it.  
"It is very strong, but apparently we are stronger."  
"You mean you?" Mycroft finally looked up at Greg. Kneeling on the bed, completely naked and wearing a massive smile. Mycroft eyes were bright with mischief and mirth.   
"You ruined my silk scarf Gregory."  
"Hey you wanted to tie me up and then you know...."  
"Yes. I'm well aware, but apparently that is not going to happen tonight."  
Greg leaned in closer and moved so that he was kneeling against Mycroft.  
"You know, you do have several silk ties? We can always test their strength?"


	135. Bright

14\. Bright   
There comes a point in your life whereas anything bright is scorching to your eyes. It can be a person, a feeling or a situation that makes you just want to clench your eyes shut, dip your head under the blankets and wish the day away. Sometimes the day is several days or weeks or months. It's all indefinite.   
It's not the usual sense of bright as the sun is bright or the mobile phone screen is unusually bright at three in the morning, no it's the world outside is to bright, people are too bright in their voices, their laughs in their eyes staring at you. Their presence is too bright when you just want to disappear in the crowd.   
The radio and the negative and positive commentary is too loud and bright when all you want is songs your heart wants to hear and the melodies aren't composed yet.  
Greg was powerless to the brightness around him, his whole being screaming for the dimness but none was forthcoming.   
It seeps into his pores and he is wishing for the darkness of the midnight.   
Try as he might he can't stop it.   
With a soft breath on the breath of despair he looked at the clock once more. Just after two in the morning, with the hesitancy of second guessing himself he opened the curtains; the pitch black night hugs him like an old friend.   
He has never felt like this before, not even when he thought Sherlock was dead. Then again he was never this alone before.


	136. Longing

15\. Longing

Greg tried again to move his hands; they were bound real tight. This was so not in his plans.   
He was no longer a detective. He wasn't even in London anymore, hell he wasn't even in the United Kingdom for goodness sake. So there really wasn't any point in him being involved in a freaking shoot out. He came to a function with his parents. It was supposed to be a good old fashioned grand opening of a new museum. Turns out that the mayor was present and he was wanted for some other fraud or something. He didn't pay attention.   
He didn't do a lot these days.   
Ever since the breakup with Mycroft, which led to a huge fight with Sherlock, and when the Consulting Detective lashed out and Greg got a ring seat at what Sherlock really thought of him - in a drugged out, didn’t sleep and eat for days, and no John to curb me back - he went all out.   
Greg decided he had enough, there was nothing left in London, no work, no relationship, no family, and he didn't feel like starting at the bottom of the ladder at his current age, so he took early retirement and went away.   
Now, he was in the middle of a hold up, bounded and shoved in the corner alongside everyone else.   
Besides his concern for his parents he really couldn't care less what happens tonight.   
Every cop instinct he had was to find a way out, a way to resolve this as easy as possible. He couldn't, his first priority his parents next to him. So he made sure the three of them is as hidden away in the back as much as possible. Luckily they were close to the bar so he could get them out of harm way if needed.   
It was so quiet that when his phone rang all attention was on him, he closed his eyes as one of the men walked closer and roughly grabbed his phone from his pocket.   
It died and then rang again the man turned to him, showing him the screen: Mycroft.   
He frowned. He hasn't heard of him in months, why on earth is he calling now?  
The phone died and started up again.   
"You should answer; he’s not going to stop." Greg tried as unthreatening as he could.   
The pressed the green button and held it to Greg's ear, the gun pointed in his face.   
"Gregory?" Greg felt like crying, that voice. It brought all the memories back.  
"Mycroft."   
"Tyler Knott Gregson once said; I am constantly surprised by the longing for you that never quiets. That being said, we are going to have a serious discussion about your ability to get yourself in this current position. That will not repeat itself, which is way I'm taking him home, now can you please tell the imbecile in front of you, that the place is surrounded and he has several sharpshooters undivided attention?"  
Greg was speechless so his mother answered.   
"Mycroft, my son is speechless, and you are on speaker, and my word you sound like a dashing man, and you got my vote."  
It was quiet. Gregory just smiled knowing Mycroft could see his face. He nodded.   
As he looked at the man holding his phone he could see Mycroft was right, he was decorated with several red dot decorations.


	137. Roar

16\. Roar  
"Gregory you do realise you can't stay in bed the entire weekend?" Mycroft tried once again to move the duvet covers but Greg just grabbed him tighter.  
"Don't. 6 hours My, that’s the total amount of time I got to see you these past 10 days. Since last night I got to be with you and held you for more than 6 hours. We have to catch up."  
"6 hours? Did you count? Besides it's a beautiful day we should go and enjoy it."  
Greg shifted and released his tight hold on Mycroft only to move so that he was leaning over him, his legs between Mycroft's.   
"6 hours and 32 minutes, yes I counted. I don’t care if it's raining sunshine and puppies or if the clouds are writing our names in the sky. I've got you in my arms, safe and sound; I’ve got the ocean outside exclaiming our love with a powerful roar in our ears. I got everything I ever needed. You. So let's say good morning, good and proper and then we can plan the rest of the day."  
Mycroft stared at Greg his eyes swimming with unshed tears.   
"I love you too. Always. You’re all I need. Always."


	138. Tendril

17\. Tendril

"Mycroft I'm not wearing a Paisley printed tie, you can forget about it."  
Greg stood in the middle of the office his shirt still untucked and barefoot. Mycroft personal thoughts were in all honesty not focused on the tie in his partner's hand. No. Not really. But, sacrifices are needed.   
"It is in fact a tendril pattern, there is a big difference Gregory."  
Don't care, not wearing your octopus pattern tie."  
"Tendril Gregory."  
"Still no."  
They stood looking at each other, no one willing to back down. Neither noticed that Sherlock and John entered, both finely dressed.   
"Are you done, the car will be here soon." Greg turned to Sherlock.   
"You're brother wants me to wear an octopus pattern tie."  
Sherlock blinked and turned to Mycroft, who shrugged. He walked over to Greg and took the tie out of his hand.  
"Lestrade its tendril, in various shades of green and Emerald, the finest silk and the latest trend. Put it on."  
"Make me." Greg stood still, his hands on his hips, looking defiant.   
Sherlock tilted his head and faced his brother.   
He gave a wicked smile and whispered in Greg’s ear, which started to blush furiously. When Sherlock took a step back, Greg grabbed the tie and walked over to Mycroft.   
"He will put it on, go wait outside." Sherlock grabbed John and walked out, slamming the door behind them.  
"Gregory?”  
"Please help me with the tie and the rest of the suit if you'd please."   
"It would be my pleasure. If I may ask?"  
"Hmm. Oh, I'll tell you later, or better, I’ll show you."


	139. Reverence

18\. Reverence

"Damn this!" Greg yelled and through his pen across the room. He ran his hand through his head and then slammed his head on the table.   
"Rough day?" Surprised Greg looked up to see Mycroft in his doorway, the pen in his hand.   
"Did that hit you?" He guiltily asked. Mycroft smiled.   
"No. Unless it was supposed to?" He walked towards Greg’s desk and handed him the pen back then sat down in the chair.   
"No. Oh hell no. Wait, no hello kisses?"  
"We are at your workplace, in your office." Mycroft answered. Greg shrugged.  
"And? Besides the things we did in your office..." Mycroft blushed and quickly looked around.   
"Yes well."   
"I absolutely love it when you blush, makes me want to whisper all kinds of things to you, right now."  
"Gregory."  
"Fine. I'll stop. Anything I can do to you today Mr Holmes I meant for you?" He asked with cheekiness and mirth in his eyes. Mycroft just tilted his head and stayed quiet. Glancing at his desk and seeing the lack of files he gave a small frown.   
"No work? Taking a breather?"  
"Remember that I told you the other day about that big fancy dinner?"  
"Yes, you complained that you had to pretend to enjoy it and that you and your boss is so close while you actually want to what's the word 'chin him'."  
"Wasn't complaining, was describing the negative aspects of my higher superior officer."  
"Well said."  
"Learned from you."  
"I hope so. Anyway, doesn’t explain what you’re doing."  
"Have to write a bloody speech for him. About his great and inspiring work ethics, his brilliant support and reverence and so on blah dee blah."  
"Would you like some help?"  
"Would you?”  
"Might need some persuasion and something in return."  
"I'm sure we can arrange something. In all seriousness My, I'd rather write a speech about you I'll know what to say, how to say it and I won't even need to prepare for it."  
"Is that so?"  
"I might be kicked out for being too sentimental, corny, and emotional and way to subjective.”  
"Gregory." Mycroft sighed and stood up, looking down trying to hide the emotions on his face. Gregory stood up followed him at the window.   
"Why is it so hard for you to believe the good and beautiful things someone has to say about you?"  
"You hold me with so much reverence I only wish I'm worthy of your regard."  
"It's because of whom you are that I have so much regard for you. How about we call it a day and go home? I'll run you a bath and we can just held one another till morning?"  
"I can do that."


	140. Ripples

19\. Ripples

The problem with dramas is that it never last for that moment. Sure there is the big showdown and the moment of truth and revelations, but afterwards, the part the camera doesn't show is the consequences.

Take a movie for example, let's take 'The Avengers' when Loki is finally restrained and Thor is taking him to Asgard, what happens on the journey, what is Thor thinking as he takes his brother to be sentenced, does he think and wished he could've seen the signs sooner? Does he think if he wasn’t so full of himself growing up, he could actually prevent all of it? What about the things behind the scenes?

The ripples of the object hitting the water? Those ripples go on and spread out wider and wider and long after the stone had sunk to the bottom, the ripples still go on.

Mycroft was tired, had a fight with his brother and hadn’t had a decent sleep in days and was in a bad mood.  
Greg just ran into his ex with the PE teacher on the arm, far pregnant and happy, he just had another fight with his boss about Sherlock's hand in a case and got a discipline letter against his name.

One thing led to another and by the end of the day, he and Mycroft was over.  
Greg voice was hoarse with yelling, fighting and trying to defend himself, his life choices, life situation and the obvious lack of grasping and intelligence compared to the Holmes brothers.  
Mycroft was tensed and rigid, his walls higher than before as he showed no emotions as he complained and insulted his colleagues and the dumb people around he has to work with and the lack of understanding from his partner.  
The partner who tried to cheer him up with a movie and normal relaxing methods which according to Mycroft was too mundane and tedious for his brain. Telly? What a ridiculous notion.

The ripples continued even further so that in the early morning Mycroft was in his study, trying to get some sleep on the sofa.  
Greg was in his car on his way to get some sleep someplace else.  
The ripples continued with the heavy rain and the darkness of night.  
The ripples continued as Greg was too emotional and his vision obscured by the tears too brake in time for the corner.  
The ripples continued as Greg's car slid around the corner and the steering wheel twisted in Greg’s hands as he tried to keep steady.  
The ripples continued as the wheels bumped into the pavement and the car went into the air and rolled across the road with a shattering of glass and a screeching of ripped metal.  
The ripples continued as everything went dead silent in the street and a phone rang in a mansion somewhere in London.  
The ripples continued as Mycroft lifted up his phone to answer.

Ripples continue long after the stone sunk into the water.


	141. Memory

20\. Memory

"My?" Mycroft turned around in bed to look at Greg. He was lying with his back to Mycroft, legs pulled up and his arms tight towards his chest as if to hug himself his voice soft.   
"Yes?" Mycroft asked as he wrapped his moved his hand down Greg's shoulder and down his side.   
Greg shifted so to look at his partner, who just opened his arms and let Greg made himself comfortable against him.   
"I know this is probably going to sound morbid but when I die, and if I die before you, can I ask a favour?"  
Mycroft frowned, his heart skipped a beat.  
"Gregory, please my dear, do not talk like that, please do not die before me."  
"We can't control our time My, even you aren't that good."  
"I am. And I most certainly will not let you die."  
"Can I still ask for a favour?"  
"Gregory."  
"My. It's nothing bad."  
"It is, since you'd be dead. But to ease your mind, what is it?”  
"Do not put 'in loving memory' on my tombstone okay? Anything but that."  
"I have to ask Gregory why not?"  
"Because when someone is dead and that person meant a lot to you, there is nothing loving about their memory, there’s heartache and pain, bitterness and resentment, maybe pride and bittersweet. A bucket load of emotions, but nothing loving about them being gone. I don’t want that."  
"I promise, promise me the same."  
"I promise."  
It was quiet for a while when Mycroft whispered. 

"To my bridge. May our roads cross in the roads of eternity interwoven in our hearts of forever."

"Bloody hell that's beautiful. Bridge?"  
"You’re my bridge Gregory, when life becomes a storm and a thunderous roar of lighting, and I'm driving on the road of my life, you are the bridge of which I can hide underneath, and for a moment have complete peace and warmth and safety. I'm only at peace and calm and safe and loved when I'm with you."  
"I'm only your bridge because you give me the strength and courage to stand strong."


	142. The sound of silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for another sad one, because these little fics and prompts are short I usually try to write as many as I can at once, I was on leave for a while, to help my mom, whose experiencing some health issues at the moment and it definitely influence my mood.   
> However this one and is the end of really sad for a while, as the one's I'm currently writing and editing today are all happy and fluffy.   
> Please bear with me.

21\. The sound of silence

You can only be really happy and at peace with yourself when you are completely satisfied with the silence around you.   
When you can go a day without a sound, without the constant beat of a song in the background, or the noises of people outside your windows. When you don't have to reassure yourself by the noises of life outside and the silence are welcome.

Then again there are moments when the silence is so loud and overwhelming that you'd go as far as to listen to old political speeches just not to be silent.

Greg is at this moment in time willing to open the hospital room door so that the sounds outside could break the silence. He would actually rather listen to people coughing and crying around him, than to have this utter silence. For a millionth time that night his eyes swept over the figure in the bed. No beeping, nothing.  
A small child, a victim of parental abuse, calling him for help. He was too late. The father killed the mother and child in a rage.  
He remembered holding her as she bled on her little mermaid pyjamas. He was too late, her injuries too severe.   
So innocent.   
He ignored his unit, he ignored everyone.   
Sometimes he really hated his job.   
He looked up, someone was coming. He didn't bother trying to find out.   
Sherlock stopped in front of the glass window looking into the room. Greg was staring ahead, his clothes stained red.   
John moved to stand next to him, neither talking nor making a move to go inside.

After ten minutes Mycroft joined them at the glass, sighing he handed his umbrella and jacket to his brother and stepped inside. He walked towards Greg and bend down in front of him, they watched as he slowly took Greg's hands. They watch as Greg turned his face to Mycroft, silent tears streaming down his face, they watched as he broke down in Mycroft's arms as he held him to his chest by now both sitting on the floor.   
They stopped watching and looked down as the silence was broken by Greg's sobs.


	143. Solitude

22\. Solitude

"Solitary confinement for you, you drunk bastard." The voice was harsh and grainy and Greg felt like washing his ears with bleach.   
He didn't try to fight back as he was shoved into cell and the door slammed behind him. Still half-drunk he moved towards the bunk bed and fell down on top. A loud groan escaped his mouth as he realised that when he went down, the mattress wasn't as thick as he thought.   
This is going to be hard on his back.   
Closing his eyes he reflected on the past few days.   
He might lose his job, he was suspended without pay, and Sherlock is dead. John hates him and told him in a very colourful vocabulary what he can go do. Mycroft stared at him as if he lost the most precious jewel in the world. Which he had. He let them all down. He tried so hard. No one can understand, he thought Mycroft would as he knows the restraints of paperwork and job restrictions.   
The again, Mycroft is the typical "rules are made to be broken" kind of man.  
He was alone, completely and utterly alone. He lost everything so to him it was a really good idea to stop shaving, stop carrying his credentials and identity around as he had become a walking target for the media and his superiors. Throw in the need to start drinking and be more drunk than sober and what do you get?  
Arrested and jail time. It's only for one night and in his drunken state he caused some havoc and now is in solitary confinement.   
Could be worse.  
The cells were overcrowded and he can do with some time to himself.   
Not much though.   
Too much time as the voices in his head becomes a bit more cruel than normal.   
He continued to lay there in the silence and dark. Thoughts swirling around and around in his head adding to the nausea he already has.   
After what seemed like hours the door opened and a figure came walking in.  
Greg opened his eyes into slivers.   
"Listen mate, when I go to jail, what are my chances for permanent solitary confinement? A copper like me might be safest there, and the solitude would be great." He shifted so that he was on his side. The man didn’t say anything as he came closer. Greg ignored him and mumbled   
"On the other hand, put me in the least secured ward; let’s make it easy for them to get to me." With a sigh he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.   
The man bend down and his hand he cupped Greg's cheek.  
"Oh my dearest Gregory. I'll never let you go to jail." He stood up.   
"Enter." He commanded his voice above a whisper. Anthea came in with two men on either side.   
"Pick him up and transfer him to Mr. Holmes residence. They are waiting for you and will give further instructions once you've arrived. Mr. Holmes and I will be following."  
As one man they picked him up. Mycroft keeping vigilant over the procedure. Once alone in the car she dared to break the silence.   
"He'll be all right, he will get through this."  
"I know. I'll take care of him, I just hoped Sherlock appreciate the lengths we all will go to for him, Gregory more so than others."   
"He thinks you hate him."  
"I had to keep up appearances. I'll explain all in the morning, I just hope he understands."  
"He will. His feelings for you...”  
"Anthea..."  
"My apologies. We have arrived."  
"Let's get him settled."


	144. Promises promises

23\. Promises promises 

Greg, John and Sherlock all sat in the living room case files all around the space. They've been at it for days, the case completely causing havoc for everyone around.   
They were tired and exhausted. Sherlock gave up on his comments and sarcasm towards the end of the previous night.   
Mrs Hudson tried her best to keep them fed and dehydrated with tea and biscuits.   
Sherlock ate none, but drank as much as he could.   
It was just after twelve when the smell of warm and spicy Chinese food filled the air. John and Greg looked at each other and then as one they turned towards the door. Anthea entered her hands filled take away bags. Behind her Mycroft came walking in. His ever present umbrella swinging and swaying.   
Greg ignored the food and stepped towards him. Mycroft smiled and turned so that most of them was hidden behind the doorway, his free arm pulling him closer. Greg mirrored his smile as he leaned in closer.   
"I probably smell."  
"You still smell like my Gregory. How is the case going?"  
"Eewg."   
"Such a detailed description." Mycroft whispered. Greg just gave a low chuckle.   
Their moment was interrupted by Sherlock's voice.   
"If you don’t stop this nauseating sentimentality I'll just ignore you both for the rest of the year."  
Mycroft and Greg smirked.   
"Ah promises promises."  
"I heard that!"  
Mycroft rolled his eyes and stepped into the room.  
"That's why I didn’t whisper. I need to get back to the office, just came by to make sure you're well fed."  
"Thanks Mycroft." John said as he helped himself to the food.  
"No, you came for Lestrade, why not just kidnap him and disappear to a remote island?"  
"Maybe I will." Mycroft commented nonchalant. Greg looked at him.  
"Oh promises promises."


	145. At garden's edge

24\. At garden’s edge 

"Mycroft, what is that weird wooden stuff the garden guys are dropping off?" Greg asked as he looked through the window to the people on their lawn.   
"It's a garden edge." Mycroft answered.  
"A garden edge? What the hell is that? "  
Greg could hear his partner's longsuffering all the way over the phone.   
"Garden's edge, you place the decorated design between the grass and the plants. It separates it in a beautifully well-coordinated way, which is appealing to the eye."  
Greg blinked a few times as to process the information. After a while he started laughing.   
"Gregory?"  
"You are the most infuriating and poshest git I've ever met. Bloody hell I love you."  
"You call me infuriating and posh and a git and then proceed to declare you love?"  
"Oh yes. Please get home early so I can show you how much. Meet me outside the house in the back garden okay?"  
"Tonight? Outside in our garden? "  
"Yes. We're having a picnic."  
"It's a big garden Gregory."  
"Oh Love. Just follow the garden's edge."


	146. Petrichor

25\. Petrichor

The rain has finally stopped and the sun was bright so early in the morning. The grass was still damp and there was droplets shining and sparkling on the leaves and branches.   
It was quiet, the park still enjoying the calm before the storm of families and pets and balls.   
Silently down the pathway twisting through the trees and stream a couple is walking. Happy, steady and hand in hand. Dressed warm in jeans and long coats they were the perfect picture of a loving couple.  
As they crossed the little bridge Greg stopped looked at the little stream. Smiling he took out his phone.   
"One picture?"  
"Of me or us?" Mycroft asked softly, the smile never leaving his mouth.   
"Both."  
"That's two photos."  
"And...? Come on smile for me." Mycroft relaxed and smiled as Greg took a picture.   
"Come on. Selfie one."  
"Selfie?"  
"Yup. It's when you take one of yourself but in this instance it's both of us." He pulled Mycroft closed and took another picture, before he could move away Mycroft wrapped one arm around him and kissed him. As they kissed he uses his other arm to hold Greg's phone to take another picture. When he pulled away Greg's face was nearly splitting in half so wide and bright his smile was. Deciding to keep his phone nearby for more pictures they started walking again.   
"Love?"  
"Hmm."  
"You know that perfume you get that smells like books?"  
"I do indeed as you made me buy it and now our house smells constantly like a library."  
"Awesome isn't it. Anyway do you think we can convince the perfume company to design one that smells like this?"  
"This?”  
"Earth after the rain?" It's so fresh and clean and just so relaxing. We can switch between a library and clean earth, our house would be the most amazing and relaxed place ever."  
"Petrichor."  
"Petrichor?"  
"That's the name for the description of the smell of earth after the rain."  
"See Love, with a name like that who wouldn't buy it?"


	147. Birdsong

26\. Birdsong

This weekend was exactly what they needed. Mycroft's parents invited them over for the long weekend since the Monday was a public holiday they decided to go. Actually Greg convinced Mycroft that they should go, he apparently had so much fun last time and couldn't wait to go again.   
Mycroft was more inclined to believe that it's the attention Greg usually gets from them. They spoil him rotten, homemade cookies and biscuits, cakes and soups and stews. His mother even went as far as to froze some meals so 'dear Greg' don't have to starve. Not to mention all the blackmail his ‘dearest’ usually gathers on trips like these, it's albums, pictures, home videos and anecdotes and stories. Oh, it’s probably worth it to see Gregory so happy and relaxed. Besides he even manages to get him relaxed and able to enjoy the visits.   
They were having tea together before they had to return to London. The bags were packed, the frozen meals in cooler containers, the biscuits and cookies in tins, the whole shebang.   
For the first time in a long time Mycroft didn't want to leave, his mind telling him that maybe it's time to slow down and settle with Greg, neither was getting younger and they both had dangerous jobs.   
He looked at Greg laughing as his parents shared another story his eyes twinkling with mirth. Yes, maybe it's time to settle down, or at least make their relationship more permanent and committed.   
"Did you really try to build your own Tardis?" Greg asked as he placed his hand on Mycroft's leg.  
"Indeed, I thought if successful I could master several classes at once by manipulating the time and its constraints, it would've enabled me to be a lot smarter a lot faster than the normal route." Greg doubled over as he laughed. No caring who watched he leaned over to kiss him.  
"Oh Love, I love that you were such a geeky nerd under that three piece suit. I would've had completely different ideas."  
"Is that so? What would you have done?"  
"Went back in time to the first ever football game, I'd go visit the dinosaurs and tell Rexy he was my favourite as a child. I would go forward in time to see how I die and leave myself notes to warn me as I go through in life."  
Mycroft stared at Greg, he was just as goofy and nerdy as him. It was great.   
"Rexy? Notes and football? What about the lottery numbers?"  
"I already won the lottery and it had nothing to do with numbers." Greg gave a small smile as Mycroft’s parents hide their tears behind a smile and tea cup.  
Mycroft was unable to speak; he just stared at Greg, not caring to hide his emotions.   
Mycroft's mother took hold of both their hands; on in each of hers, she smiled warmly at them.   
"You two do realise that it's like a birdsong right?"  
"Pardon?" Mycroft asked.   
"A birdsong, you know to let you know you're not alone, there’s always hope as long as there is heart. Because when two hearts truly connect it beats in harmony like a birdsong. Don't lose that. Fight for it. Always Mikey, Greg. Promise me."  
"We promise they softly whispered as they looked at each other.   
Yes, Mycroft thought, definitely time to cement their relationship into the next level. He needs to go shopping.


	148. Appetite

27\. Appetite 

Greg finally sighed and put down his cutlery he looked at Mycroft who was just pushing his food around the plate.  
"Are you auditioning for a new position?"   
Mycroft was startled as he dropped his fork and looked at Greg.   
"Excuse me?"  
"I was wondering whether you were auditioning for a new job, food plate decorator perhaps."  
Mycroft frowned.   
"Food plate decorator?”  
"Yes, you've been pushing and rearranging the food in several new positions in the last ten minutes except in the form of small bite size pieces and to let it down your throat."  
"I was merely in thought."  
"Bollocks. Mycroft why aren't you eating?" Greg asked softly.   
"I don't seem to have a appetite today, maybe I'm coming down with something or just not feeling the need for food."  
"I think you're coming down with a case of bullshit, or the need for some brain alteration."  
"Excuse me?"  
"I know exactly why you are not eating, and I think it's ridiculous. You do not have a problem with your weight."  
"Gregory. . . I. ..."  
"You know what, if you think you're overweight what to you think of me?"  
"You?"  
"I'm shorter than you and heavier than you, so by those calculations you are overweight and I'm in that case obese? So therefore I'm the one who should have a decrease of appetite. So let's push this aside, better yet, the temptation might be too much for me, let's bin it." To make his point he got up and took his plate over to the dustbin, Mycroft jumped up and stopped him.  
"Gregory. Don't. Please."  
"Why can't you see how utterly amazing and beautiful you are?"  
"Because I don't look with your eyes."  
"You look with Sherlock's eyes right? Or the eyes of the past, and young Mycroft?"  
"Yes. If you put it like that."  
"Please don't. Throw away the old Mycroft's eyes and most certainly the Sherlock eyes, borrow mine until you can see yourself with the new, present Mycroft."  
"I'll try. I'm sorry."  
"There's nothing to apologise for. I'll gladly spend every moment of my time and eyesight to you, don't think my eyes have ever gazed upon something so beautiful before."  
"You have a way with words my dearest."  
"Oh Love; I have a way with you."


	149. Full of blessings

28\. Full of blessings

"Oh this is interesting." Greg passed the little paper towards Mycroft who took it with confusion.  He opened the paper and read it out loud.

"You're house will be full of blessings."

With a raised eyebrow he looked at Greg. 

"You do realise that this is just a phrase designed to lighten up your day and mood while you are actually supposed to eat.  In fact this has no actual reliability into a person's life?"

"Oh shush My. I like it." Greg snatched the paper back and put it in his pocket.

"I'm more inclined to believe you like the cookie more."

"Definitely.  It's a fortune cookie My! It's delicious and reading the fortunate is fun."

"Oh yes 'fun'."

"Yes. Fun.  In fact I'm buying a few more for the road.  Want some? "

"I'm trying to quit."

"Ha-ha, sarcasm.  Lovely.  I'm getting you two.  Oh look there's some that's dipped in chocolate.   We'll get those."

"Gregory...”  His concerns fell on deaf ears as Greg was already at the counter buying a lot more cookies.  He sighed.  There was no way out of this.

His partner had a sweet tooth and apparently a somewhat fascination for fortunate cookies.

When Mycroft got up to go to work the next morning he passed Greg's jacket on the way out.  He stopped, making his mind up he removed the small paper out of his jacket. 

He looked at it again, a smile on his lips.

A house full of blessings indeed.

 


	150. Feather your nest

29\. Feather your nest

"Can't you get rid of him?" Greg asked while taking another bite of his pizza.   Mycroft looked up from the table where he was going over reports.

They were in his office, the TV on some news channel.   The man in question was a civil servant in the government.

"Gregory you do realise I'm just a minor official in the transport right?" Gregory smirked.

"Oh yes, in minor you mean as the sun is just a small light bulb, the universe fairies turn on in the morning,  minor as in a heart transplant is a small papercut operation."

"I haven't heard those metaphors before."

"It's because I'm awesome and unique.   The major reasons you love me."

"Oh yes, you’re way with words."

"Yup.  Anyway back to the idiot on screen."

"You want me to get rid of him; shall I call James Bond or Johnny English?"

"Hilarious, how about getting him deported?  Or at least in a position where he can't - as they say 'feather your nest' on our poor middle class's money?"

"Oh the horror and misfortune of your poor middle class problems.   I shall rectify it immediately." Mycroft commented in his most dry tone, his eyes sparkling with mirth.  Greg just stuck out his tongue.

"Love you too."

 


	151. Disrobed

30\. Disrobed 

 

It was the smell of the soap and cleaning products that whispered to Greg's nose and slowly brought him back to consciousness.   
Drowsily he lifted his head and opened his eyes in small slivers. The bed was empty, besides him. His hand travelled to the empty space; still a little warm, meaning Mycroft didn't get up too early.   
With a groan and stretching of his limbs he moved onto his back.  
He didn't feel like getting up at all today. He much preferred the warmth of the bed, the soft embrace of the blankets and the soft whispers of Mycroft's voice in his ears.   
Getting up means dealing with the world, and all that is out there.   
The sound of the water stopping took him out of his reverie and he moved his head to the bathroom door. Smiling he realised it was open, Mycroft finally feeling comfortable enough to shower with an open door.   
Greg's raised a fist in the air, a victorious smile on his face.   
A minute later Mycroft walked out of the bathroom, his robe loosely tied up.   
"Good morning Gregory, sleep well?"  
"Like a baby. Why are you so up early? "  
"It's after seven, hardly early."  
"Let's call in sick today."  
"Sick?"  
"Yes. I'll say I got a 24hour bug and you can say your bed is ill, and you're staying home to take care of it?"  
"I'm sure that will work."  
“You want to shower before work, and then I'll make some coffee?”  
"But My.... these blankets have finally accepted me as one of their own, it would be too risky to get out now." Greg was in full whine mode as he moved to sit up, his feet dangling of the sides. He was pouting and giving Mycroft the full 100 watt puppy look. Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked towards Greg. Giving him a small kiss.  
"Come on, we can stay in over the weekend." Greg took the opportunity to loosen his robe and slipped it of his shoulders. He looked at Mycroft standing completely naked.   
"Ah disrobed, my favourite Mycroft look. Come on, let's stay in."  
"You are impossible." Mycroft stepped back and seeing that Greg wasn't going to let of his robe he walked towards the door, still naked. Greg stared.   
"Since you like the robe you can use it, I’ll go make coffee."


	152. Breathe

31\. Breathe 

"Greg!" Anderson's voice reverberated over the chaos. Sherlock and John just got out of the taxi as they heard his yell. With a confused look they ran as fast as they could towards Anderson. He looked terrified and stared towards the house. He was standing next to Sally, also looking scared and frightened.   
"What happened?" Sherlock yelled but he received no answer. He turned to Sally and grabbed her shoulders.   
"What. Happened?"  
Anderson answered as Sally just managed a few syllables.  
"Greg, he heard there's a kid stuck in the house, he ran in."  
"What! The house is engulfed in flames." John uttered as he stared at the burning house. Sherlock's hands fell at his side as he turned as well, taking a few steps forward. Stunned and dumbstruck.   
He didn't because even noticed the black car parking and his brother getting out in a rush. The next thing he knew he was standing next to Mycroft.   
They watched as the Fire department desperately trying to quench the rising flames.   
John was praying for Greg to be okay, Sherlock and Mycroft was doing the necessary calculations to estimate the time has been in there and the chance of survival. It wasn’t positive.   
It felt like forever when the glass in front was shattered by a chair flying out of it. Two seconds later Greg came out half bend and carrying a weight covered in a sheet over his shoulder.   
He struggled until he collapsed on the ground the body next to him. Mycroft was the first to reach him and put out the flicker of flames on his back and arms. A quick glance told him, Greg has some burns, probably 1st degree mostly superficial - he hoped.   
The EMT's focused on the kid while John took care of Greg. Both Holmes brothers look on as he assessed his injuries. Mycroft made sure he was close but not obstructing John as he worked.  
Greg was coughing as John turned him to his side, his face dirty with ash and sweat.   
"Greg? Can you hear me?" John asked.   
Greg slowly blinked and gave a half-hearted nod. The coughs and struggle for breath shaking his body.   
"Hold on, the paramedics will be with you in a moment. Greg again just lifted his arm halfway in response. His body too weak.   
Mycroft bend down and put his hands on Greg's shoulder.   
"Gregory?" It was like a light turned on his head as he opened his eyes, his face turning to Mycroft a smile on his face. His hand searching for his. Mycroft grabbed his. He didn't care who saw or how dirty his suit was getting.   
"My." He groaned out between coughs.   
"That was reckless Gregory." Greg tried to respond but a new wave of coughs overtook his body. Finally he manages a weak "Kid okay?"   
"His going to be fine, thanks to you." Sherlock said.   
"Good."  
There was so much Mycroft wanted to say, instead he just shifted so that Greg was sitting halfway up, resting against Mycroft. "Just breathe Gregory. Just breathe."  
John looked towards the EMT'S, seeing how the kid is stabilised and while they are moving him to the ambulance, two others came walking towards them.  
“The EMT’S are on their way."   
Mycroft nodded and squeezed Greg's hand. Greg opened his eyes they could hear him say between coughs  
"Gonna pass out now." Before anyone could respond Greg lost consciousness.


	153. Cusp

Cusp

Mycroft was frustrated and agitated, and for the first time since high school he took his pen and throws it against the wall.  He froze and looked at the pen on the floor.

‘Damn’ he thought.  That’s a Gregory move.  So is cussing, ‘damn’.  Gregory has been rubbing off on him. Trying to keep his elegance and manners intact he stood up and went for a walk outside in the garden.

Later that evening Greg came in looking for a book when he noticed the pen on the floor.  He frowned, there’s absolute no way it fell or dropped off the desk.  Still he put it on the desk and that’s when his eyes noticed the paper.  He walked around and picked it up.  It was a list.  With two columns and a title. His name was on top in capital letters with sub titles in each column.  One with alphabetically, the other, emotionally.   There was positive characteristics from amazing, and acceptance to brave and loyal and strong.  One column was in alphabetical order the order one of emotional Greg assumed was how he was too Mycroft. Both column had the same words, some was in other languages. 

He was so busy reading that he didn't see Mycroft stepping in the room.

"You're the cusp of my emotional turmoil." Greg looked up startled.

"What?"

"The cusp of my emotional turmoil as well as my rational and logical thought process."

"Middle class English, please."

"Whether it is my brain or.... or... or my heart you seem to be winning hands down in everything I do.  It doesn't make sense." Greg swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"So you were trying to write down my characteristics in two different columns, to what... make sense of your feelings for me?"

"Yes. It didn't work."

"It's just positive, what about my negative aspects?”

"There is."

Greg looked down to read again.

"Tenacious, anger, passionate and stubborn, to name a few.  They are not that negative."

"They are when it doesn't fit into my plans, yet on you it’s still positive.  Another conundrum."

Greg put down the list and walked over to Mycroft.  Gently he took his hands into his own.

"You do realise there's nothing rational and logical about love?"

"Problematic I assure you."

"I assure you, there’s nothing problematic in my love for you."

 


	154. Everyone should

2\. Everyone should

Mycroft looked at his watch, Greg was late.   He said he was just going to the bathroom and get them some coffee and he'll be back.  That was ten minutes ago.

He sighed.  He really hoped bathroom break meant a quick bladder relief and not the other kind.

He looked towards the door, glad that Greg's office was mostly glass and he could see outside, the floor was busy with police and the usual office work he couldn't be bothered with at the moment. 

He turned towards the desk, all his files and paperwork was open, the PC open on some document.

'Maybe he received a call out?' No. His cell phone was still on the desk as well. He frowned.  For a detective he really needs to be more careful. 

It's been 15 minutes and still no Greg.

Twenty minutes.

At 25 minutes he got up and walked towards the bathroom.  He opened the door and stepped inside.   It was not the best bathrooms ever, but it was clean and actually smelled nice.  He was pleasantly surprised.

"Gregory?" He heard a strangled sound from the far end of the stalls.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Gregory?" He walked slowly closer.

"Hmm. Mycroft?" Greg's voice was strained and Mycroft rushed over and without a second thought he pushed the door open.  The hinges boke on impact and the door fell against the wall with a bang.   Greg was shocked, with surprise all over his face he watched Mycroft standing in the doorway, breathing swallow and looking worried. 

Taking a quick look Mycroft realised Greg probably tripped or something and twisted his ankle.

He bends down to take a closer look but Greg was just gaping at him.

"Gregory what happened?"

"You broke the door."

"I'll fix it. Now tell me are you okay?"

"You were worried.  About me. Why?"

That froze Mycroft and he looked at Greg.  Greg could see the worry and hidden fear in his eyes, he revealed himself in a moment of weakness.   Reaching out his hand and took hold of Mycroft's hand which was on his ankle.  Mycroft sighed and sat down with his back against the wall, facing Greg.

"Gregory..."

"Help me up and let's talk over dinner, my treat."  It was a while before he answered.

"All right."

Together they struggled up with Mycroft supporting most of Greg’s weight.

"I don’t think dinner is on the table, you’ll need to go to the doctor or a clinic."

"Date night afterwards?"

Mycroft stared and finally let the smile that threatened to break free from the moment he said yes to dinner break free.

"Is that how you get all your dates?" Greg gave him a cheeky smile.

"Just the best ones, with my injury I'm guaranteed some sympathy"

"Is that so?"

"You're already holding me."

"I'll drop you."

"Ouch. That wouldn't be cute from you."

"Cute."

"Shut up I'm in pain, I can say what I want to."

They made it halfway out of the building when they ran into Sherlock and John.

Who stood shocked to see the two so close.  Greg gave Mycroft a wicked smile and Mycroft really had to focus to keep them upright.

"My, look your brother is speechless."

"A good look I'm sure."

"What is going on?" John asked as he tried to look at Greg's foot which was without his shoe and sock and clearly swollen.

"Scored myself a date due to my injury." Greg declared with a wide smile.

John and Sherlock stared.  Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"He's in shock and pain, obviously messing with him." Mycroft tried to salvage what little he could from this ordeal.

"It's still true" Sherlock finally said. Greg nodded.

"That's no way to get a date." Sherlock commented.

"I do not see the problem Sherlock; actually the injury goes a long way."  John placated the beginnings of a smile on his lips.  He was so enjoying the show.

"Yup, although you usually fake it." Greg added with a wink. 

"But you didn't Gregory, you just happened to make the best of a bad situation."

"Yup. Everyone should.   Besides it makes me more sincere."

 


	155. Summer's bounty

3\. Summer's bounty 

"Stop." Sherlock turned around to Greg who has stopped at a book shop. He was looking at a book in the display area and immediately smiled.   
"It's a bookshop Lestrade; this is not where our suspect is." Sherlock responded in a bored tone.   
"Just five minutes come on. It would be perfect."  
Sherlock frowned and glanced at the display, there was no book on murders, serial killers or science experiments, he could not see the 'perfect' in any of the books, they were either love stories, gardening tips or cook books.   
"No. Lestrade if your love life is so horrendous with my brother I don't see how a gardening book or romance is going to work. For starters it's heterosexual and Mycroft is a man, so are you, and the cookbook won't help his diet unless you have some weird fetish." Greg groaned and tried to hide his embarrassment as Sherlock's comment was loud enough for several people to hear. He could feel the eyes on him, as he picked up the one book and gave it to the cashier. Sherlock leaned in closer.   
"Oh God it's worse than I thought. Can't he swift you away to some theatre play or something are this really necessary. Told you that Mycroft is different."  
"Sherlock shut it!" Greg cried with exasperation. Paying the book they left.  
As soon as they were outside Greg pushed Sherlock against the wall with the book against his chest.   
"1. My love life with your brother is amazing, in fact it is very exhilarating and oh so awesome, in fact we have to consume more protein to keep up. 2. There’s nothing wrong with gardening and 3. This is for you. You are going to give this to your mother for her birthday this weekend."  
Sherlock stared at Greg as the words sunk in, nauseous with the love life comment, bored at the gardening and confusion with the last one.  
"My mother? Her birthday is this weekend? "  
Greg let go of him and the book leaving Sherlock to act quickly and grabbing it.  
"Yes you're utter git. Last time My and I visited she said she lost hers and wants another one. I knew you'd forget with this case so there, be a good son and give it to her. Oh please just wrap it yourself."  
Sherlock stared. He didn't know how to say thank you, but he wasn't going to let the opportunity to try passing him by.  
"'Preserving Summer's bounty, a quick and easy guide to freezing, canning and preserving what you grow.' You just want my mom's cooking don't you?"  
Greg gave him a wicked smile. "She does make the best jams, even Anthea commented on it with the scones the other day. I know John really loved the strawberry jam. Says it makes the toast heaven. Imagine you give her that book, how thoughtful that would be, not just your mother but John as well. After all the experiments you do some homemade jam will go far in forgiveness."


	156. Unveil

4\. Unveil 

'This won't do' Mycroft softly whispered as he pulled his jacket closer around himself to keep the chill wind out of his skin. He was sitting in the top corner of the seats looking at the rugby game. It was held at the local high school where several teams have been playing the whole day. Oh how he hated sports.   
He wasn't even planning on being here; in fact he can't fathom the idea that he was actually here.  
Oh yes.   
Gregory Lestrade.   
Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.   
He noticed on the surveillance that for the past few weeks he would come here and train/coach the local high school team in rugby. He knew that Greg used to play both soccer and rugby in school and focused more on soccer in his varsity years so he was pleasantly surprised to find out he was involved.   
The main reason for coming was the shorts. He had seen several photos of Greg in his gear and that only prompted him to be here today and see first-hand that man in his gear. The legs, the butt oh he couldn't resist.   
Mind you he probably should've found a spot closer to the ground and field but alas, he couldn't risk being seen.   
"Oh good Lord." He chocked as he saw the man of his fantasies run across the field.   
Black shorts with the referee shirt, socks that came underneath his knees and the rugby shoes. Oh that's wonderful material for his mind. He was so happy for that memory of his. He was aware that several women were whistling and commenting on the referee and he could only agree. How could he ever look at the detective in his work clothes when these....  
Oh people are cheering. He watched as Greg run from one end to other with his whistle.   
He was very impressed with his stamina to keep up with the young players.   
He was so focused that he never realised it was half time and the players went back into the bathrooms or wherever they take their break.   
He looked around and found a spot at the bottom of the seats, tiers or whatever they are called, who cares what they are called when there's a fine specimen running around in shorts.   
Hastily he made his way down to the bottom, the collar up and his hat low on his eyes. Silently he waited for the game to resume.   
"Tea?" Mycroft practically jumped when the voice spoke behind him. Turning he saw the wicked and devilish grin, bright sparkling brown eyes and sweat ruffled hair. He was breath taking and Mycroft could only stare.  
"First I caught you off guard and now speechless, if you keep this up, I just might have to see what else I can do to you."  
"Oh God yes." He blurted out. The blush instant on his face.   
"I.... I mean. .. I'd....like to. ...see you try."  
If possible Greg's smile just turned another side of evil.   
"Oh me too." Chuckling he walked around the seats and stood in front of Mycroft.  
Mycroft stopped breathing. Less than an arm's length stood Greg, he could see every muscle twitch, the stains on his shorts, the sweat on his legs glistening in the sunlight.   
"Mycroft?" He blinked as he looked up at Greg.   
Greg wasn't smiling anymore, he look confused and worried.   
"H..wh..hm" he stumbled out.  
"I've been calling a few times are you okay?”  
"Mmm. Fine."   
"Listen I didn't expect to see you here and I'm quite surprised, didn’t see you as the high school rugby game type, anyway usually everyone is drinking sodas and stuff, and I don't think you'll appreciate a can of soda, so got you some tea in a flask if you'd like?" Mycroft gingerly took the flask he was offered.   
"Thank you." He softly whispered.   
"What are you doing here?"  
Mycroft sighed; he couldn't think of a lie and so far his dealings with Greg he realised Greg can see when he is trying to lie."  
"Came to see you."  
"Me?" Realisation struck. Greg took a small step and crouched down to look him in the eye.   
"Mycroft, do you like me?" Mycroft swallowed and looked away giving just gave a small nod.  
Greg was beaming as he took hold of Mycroft's hands, wrapped around the flask. Mycroft whipped his eyes back to Greg.   
"I'm glad. Really glad."  
"Why?"  
"You know today has been one big unveil after the other. I fancied you for so long, never for one moment thinking you could possibly like me."  
"I don't understand. You like me? Me?" Mycroft asked confused.   
Greg nodded.  
“You Holmes's can see everything. Does it look like I'm lying?" After a moment Mycroft shook his head. The moment was broken by someone yelling for Greg.   
"Coach! We gotta go!"  
Greg stood up.   
"While you be here after the game? I'd like a chance to talk properly."  
Mycroft just nodded.   
"When the game is finished just go back here, the door on your right follow it till you see our logo on the locker doors, it will smell like sweat and adrenalin but there's a little waiting room wait there for me."  
Mycroft nodded again and finally smiled when he saw Greg's wide grin. Greg walked towards the field and quickly turned around running to him and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.   
"Enjoy the view." He whispered as he ran back to the field, the whistle in his mouth.


	157. Escape

5\. Escape

"Mycroft where the hell are we?" Greg looked around and all he could see was endless country side. Behind him was a small cottage, mostly hidden away by the line of trees and green moss against the walls. He looked back at Mycroft who park the car under the makeshift garage next to the cottage. It looked so cosy.  
"Our weekend escape."  
"Weekend escape?" Greg inquired with the beginnings of a smile.  
"Yes, come on, let’s get inside." Together they took their bags and a few perishable groceries inside.  
Greg was in seventh heaven. There was a fireplace, ready to be lit, a well-stocked pantry and the bedrooms.... big with fluffy duvets and plump pillows, the bathroom had a big bath, and oh it was beautiful.  
"How did you find this little jewel?"  
"Oh he was working at New Scotland Yard, helping my brother." Mycroft answered holding two mugs of hot chocolate and a mischievous smile.  
Greg tilted his head.  
"Oh you mean the cottage, the only jewel I know is you."  
“You are sure a flirt."  
"Only with you."  
They made their way onto the sofa in front of the fire.  
"So seriously, tell me about this."  
"My parents found it on one of their trips, made me see it, since it was so close to London, said I should make it my hideaway. They were right. I did make a few upgrades to the house, the bathroom being one of them, as well as the security measurements, the makeshift garage and the great Internet signal."  
"Escape but still available if needed."  
"Yes."  
"It's a lovely cottage, thank you for bringing me."  
"My pleasure, besides my parents, you are the only one that knows of this."  
"I'm honoured, we should escape more often."  
"Don't tempt me; the desire to run away with you is already strong."


	158. This good dirt

6\. This good dirt

"Mummy?" Both Mrs. Holmes and Greg looked up at Mycroft, who was standing in front of the shelf looking at a jar. It looked as though it contained dirt, all on different colours with labels at each level.  
‘What is this?”  
"Oh that our 'this good dirt, this good travel' jar."  
"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Greg sat back smiling. Sherlock came walking in and seeing Greg asked.  
"What are you smiling about?"  
"Your brother is confused and can't deduce it." Sherlock looked gleeful and turned to his brother. Mycroft gave his partner a glare which made him laugh even more.  
"Mummy and father apparently have a 'this good dirt, this good travel' jar." Mycroft said as he showed the jar to Sherlock, who stared. He was just as confused and perplexed as his brother. All of a sudden they heard a click sound and turned to Greg.  
"Gregory did you just took a picture of me and Sherlock?"  
"Oh yes. Both Holmes brothers confused. Once in a lifetime opportunity, going to send it to John, he’ll appreciate it as much as I do."  
"Gregory!"  
"Lestrade." Both said at the same time. They made their way to take the phone when their mother stopped them.  
"Now now boys, let my dear Greg keep the photo, I’d like to see it too, maybe I should print it, and I don’t many new photos of my boys."  
Greg pretended to be shocked, but the mischief and mirth in his eyes put both brothers on edge.  
"That's just unacceptable. Before we leave we must take a few, I'm sure My and Sherlock would love that, I'll even do a family one with all of you. All the Holmes in one picture. Should frame it.”  
"Gregory. ..." Mycroft tried knowing it be futile, Sherlock looked ready to dissect him in a vile experiment, Greg just smiled.  
"Cases Sherlock. And do I have to threatened you My?"  
"No. That wouldn’t be unnecessary." Mycroft responded. Sherlock turned to his brother.  
“It’s your fault.” Mycroft tilt his head.  
“Actually it’s yours, you introduced us.” Sherlock looked ready to commit murder; instead he looked back at the jar.  
"What is this Mummy?"  
"Everywhere your dad and I travel we take a bit of the dirt and put it in there, the label stating the land and time of our visit. You see it doesn't matter where in life we go, we walk the same earth, and sleep under the same sky."


	159. Power

7\. Power 

Two years.   
They have been together for two years, by now Mycroft knows exactly what kind of man Gregory is and with a pang of regret he realised that Greg doesn’t know him inside out. He knows the important stuff, he knows that he loves him, and will do anything for him, but he needs to know everything.   
But he is kind of scared. If he comes clean, there will be no turning back. He was so in thought that he didn't realise most of the afternoon had passed and Greg was home.   
"Hello Love. Good day?" Greg asked as he gave him a quick kiss and then went into the kitchen to make some tea.  
"Much better now that you're home." Mycroft answered as he moved to the sofa. It was late afternoon and the sun was still baking the sofa and room into comfortable warmth. He waited for Greg to finish up and join him.   
Greg came in carrying the two mugs and a tin of cookies under his arm.   
They made themselves comfortable against on the sofa, looking out over the garden in the last bit of daylight.   
"Greg?"  
"Hmm."  
"I know you didn't want to have something special for our anniversary."  
"Every day with you is an anniversary My."  
"I feel the same, this afternoon I've been thinking about us and the last two years, and I've come to a conclusion."  
"Okay."  
"I know everything about you, the big things and the little things and you certainly know things about me, but I have a revelation to make."  
"My? You're worrying me a bit you know."  
"That's not my intention. I think it's only fair that you should know, that you are the most powerful man I've ever met, and you have complete power over me."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Anything you want, I’ll give. You give the command for more time, I'll stop the clocks, you want more jails, and I’ll personally build it. Good or bad, I'll do it. The way I feel about you, it's so strong and consuming. I love you, Gregory. More than I can express in all my linguistic expertise."  
Greg gently turned to him, tears running down his face.   
"All I want, all I ask is to give me the chance and opportunity to love you as you love me, completely and wholeheartedly till my last breath."  
"You have it. Always."


	160. Soul full

8\. Soul full. 

"Come on." Grabbing Mycroft by his hand Greg led them out of their house into the garden. It was summer and the weather was nice and warm. Greg had pit on some music and the speakers were just loud enough to be heard outside.   
Mycroft was looking around, feeling a little bit foolish.   
"Gregory why are we outside when the music is inside?"  
Greg stepped closer and wrapped his one arm around Mycroft’s waist, the other he held out in front of them.  
"Because tonight my Love, we are dancing under the stars."  
"Dancing? Outside on the grass?"  
"Yes. Come on the music has been playing."  
Mycroft just shook his head as he allowed Greg to lead him in the dance. It was a soft and beautiful melody, with captivating lyrics. After the one song ended the other began, and three songs later Mycroft felt relaxed and calm. He was comfortable right there in Greg’s arms which by now both were wrapped around his waist. Mycroft tighten his arms around Greg's neck and pulled him closer.   
They were just lightly swinging together, bodies tight against one another.   
"Thank you my dearest. This is one night I'll treasure forever."  
"I'm glad. It is my pleasure and I think we should make it a tradition. One we share whenever we can."  
"Definitely. Our playlist, our garden, our home. Our moment."  
"A sky full of stars and a soul full of love."


	161. Sweet breezes

9\. Sweet breezes

"Oh this was such a good idea." Mycroft watch as Greg smell every little bunch and tree down vineyards.   The most relaxed and serene smile on his face.   He was holding his hand but after the first lane he let go to touch and smell the grapes along the lanes.  Mycroft sighed, well if he had to surrender his partner's hand for fruit, he’ll be content with that. 

But fruit only.

"I'm glad you like it."

He dutifully followed his partner as they strolled. 

The past few weeks have been hectic and busy and Mycroft was more out of the country than in it.  He and Greg needed this time to catch up.

"Have you ever considered to just buy a vineyard?"

Mycroft stopped.

"What?"

Greg came waltzing out a bunch of grapes in his hand as he ate them.

"To buy one, then you always have unlimited wine."

"You do realise technically you're not supposed to eat it."

Greg faked a look of shock.

"Oh no. Maybe you should call the police?"

With that he popped another grape in his mouth.  Before Mycroft could respond he kissed Mycroft.   When they parted the grape was in Mycroft's mouth.

"Gregory."

"Oh look.  That makes you an accomplice. Maybe they let us share a cell."

"Funny."

"Let's continue our walk shall we."

"Lead the way." They continued to walk and to make sure Greg didn't steal more grapes; Mycroft held his hand and made sure he was next to him.

"I love the smell here, it's like the wind carries the grapes and earth and freshness and surround you with it."

"It's like a nature hug, sweet breezes of the earth.

"So poetic."

"You started it."

 

 


	162. Dappled light

10\. Dappled light

Greg was bored out of his mind.  He was supervising a small team on a stake out, it's been two days now and he was getting tired of the small apartment.   The guys was able to rotate, unfortunately he had to be there 24/7.  He has read two books, a whole audio book and knows more about the people in the house they were watching than he did with some of his friends.

For a brief moment he wished that he could be on a chase with Sherlock, at least that wouldn't be so boring.  Only for a brief moment; like 40% of the time.   The other 50% was wishing to be with Mycroft and the rest was focusing on the job.

It was at noon when Mycroft called him.

"My! Oh your voice is like an oasis in the desert for my parched soul."

"Take it your job at the moment is quite the perfect example of adrenalin." Mycroft voice was dry and serious but Greg knew he was joking.

"Oh yes, begging for a break from this adrenalin."

"I'm sure.   How's it going?"

"That's the thing it was supposed to be only one day, since these guys are very impatient but it's like their waiting." They continued to talk for a while when Mycroft said something that made Greg froze.

"Gregory?  Are you there?"

"I have a mole." He slowly whispered. 

"What? Gregory what are you talking about?"

"It's one of the guys I'm with.   That's why the group haven't moved, they know their being watched.  Mycroft I need..."

Mycroft just heard a thumping sound then he heard the sound of someone hitting the ground.  He immediately notified his team that was watching Greg about the proceedings before he rushed out his office.

He was at the house in less than ten minutes; his team had about nine people in custody and was waiting for him.  He nodded to Anthea before rushing in.

"Gregory!"  He ran into the room and stopped.  Greg was leaning against the wall, a towel against his head, it was red but he was smiling at Mycroft.   The dappled light that covered him, made him half surreal.

"My." Mycroft walked over to Greg and crouched down, he took hold of the towel in one hand, the other cupping his cheek on the either side.

"This is exactly why you and Sherlock are under constant supervision; I worry constantly about the both of you, and both seemed unable to be left alone for long periods of time."

"Aaaw my knight in shining armour." Greg continued to smile at him that boyish grin that Mycroft just can't resist.

"Hardly."

"Fine.  King of my heart then."

 

 

 


	163. Collect

11\. Collect

It was in the beginnings of their relationship when Mycroft found it.  It was his first time over at Greg's flat for the weekend.   They slept in or that was the plan until Greg got a call out. 

"Stay here My, sleep a while and or read or watch telly, just don't leave, I won't be long." He said yes and pulling Greg's pillow close he continued to sleep.

When he finally awake for the day he took a quick shower and took out some frozen meat to thaw. With some tea he went in search for a book.

That's when he found it. A photo album also functioning as a scrapbook.

Forgetting about the book he sat down and started paging through the album.

It was a collection of his cases, big career making cases as well as small ones.  There was two pictures in each, a photo of the victim when alive, and then they post mortem one.  Greg had scribbled something about the case and some memorable notes about it.  There was also letters and notes from some family members to say thank you.

It was so personal yet Mycroft couldn't put it down.   He read everything, some he recognised from his time observing Greg throughout the years.

He was still busy when Greg came back.

"My?"

"Living room."  He smiled as Greg came in shedding his jacket and shoes as he went, just placing it at random places.   Mycroft could only shake his head.  Greg gave her him a big kiss then sat down next to him.

"Were you able to keep yourself busy?"

"I found this." He showed Greg the album. 

"I collect something from all my cases, especially the ones that hit a bit too close to home.   When I just started my superior told me that I'll need a coping mechanism, some slept around,  some drank,  some smoked,  not like I do, they went a bit extreme and overboard.  I've never cheated on anyone; I don’t chain smoke and don't get drunk every night."

"So you decided on this?  To collect something that not only show you how far you've come, but also as a reminder that you actually makes a difference.  Every letter and note reminds you something sees what you do and appreciate it.

"Most coping mechanism are always negative, I wanted to be different."

Mycroft leaned over and gave him a slow loving kiss.

"You make me count my blessings every day, especially since you're the biggest one.  You make me good. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever measure up."

"You took my measuring tape and shattered it, so far above it you've gone.

You make me good. You are my blessing."


	164. Tight knit

12\. Tight knit.

"Are you sure this plan is going to work?" John asked as he looked at Sherlock who gave him a sharp nod.

"It will, Mycroft would never willingly admit that he has become very sentimental and attached to Lestrade, the fight has hit him harder than he pretends.

"Should we get involved?" John was still a bit sceptical.

"Yes. If we don't Lestrade might not be as free with his cases and Mycroft will be more insufferable than usual and I'll be bored and annoyed and you will be...."

"Yes. I get it.  So the plan is to lock them in a room until they sorted their issues?"

"Better than that, an elevator with a leak and water pouring in, there's no time for sugar-coating they'll have no choice but to be honest with one another and sort out their problems."

"I don't know whether to say brilliant, manic or insane."

"I'll take all of the above."

"So, when are you implementing the plan?"

"I already did?”

"What, three hours ago, the screen is showing the progress."

"What!" John rushed around the table and choked. 

"Sherlock when was the last time you looked at the screen?”

"Haven't, the bar on top will let me know if there's danger, otherwise I'm not interested to know about their conversation."

"Well they are not talking."

"What?" Sherlock frowned as he joined John and chocked on his tea.

The water was halfway but the two men were so tightly wrapped around each other, snogging like their life dependent on it.

"Well congratulations Sherlock, I’ll never forget this image, but at least it was a tight knit plan.

 

 

"So?"  Greg finally whispered when he came up for air.

"Did I convince you of my feelings My?"

Mycroft tried to get his breathing under control.

"I think I'll need more convincing."

"We're probably giving Sherlock a show?”

"Let's make it good."

"Shall we tell him we sorted out our problems last night?”

"Let's keep it our secret."

 


	165. Seven

13\. Seven

Greg was on his way to meet Mycroft for their weekly meeting about Sherlock.   Usually he would just go when the car arrived but today he had a package.   He brought his leather case where he stored most of his files and stuff with him.

Today wasn't just a normal day; no today he is the seven year anniversary of Greg knowing the Holmes brothers.

Seven years ago, a tall, lanky and high as a kite young man entered his life and with that his crazy and mysterious and oh so sexy older brother. 

Oh if he was single....

Wait…

He was...

Wife left.

Still, no way Mycroft Holmes would be interested in a man like him, he barely makes Sherlock's rates of approval and considering that Mycroft Holmes had so much more on Sherlock, he should be glad he makes the man's weekly reminder.

The car came to a stop at the Diogenes club; Greg hated the place just a little bit if he had to be honest.   He always felt way below par whereas Mycroft oozed comfort and style.  Bastard.

Taking a deep breath he walked into the club, the carpet so thick and luscious his shoes practically melted in it as he walked.  

Anthea opened the door for him and closed it behind him.

"Detective Inspector, thank you for joining me, it should be quick, can I order you some lunch?"

"Greg or Lestrade we talked about this, anyway I'm good thanks, maybe some coffee though." Greg answered as he sat in his usual chair, waiting for Mycroft to start.

Picking up his phone Mycroft ordered two coffees.

"Shall we start dete... Gregory?

"Fire away."

The coffee arrived about two minutes later and the meeting was a total time of 25 minutes.

As he got up to leave he turned around.   Mycroft tilted his head.

"Gregory?"

"Seven years and I finally get you to call me by name."

"Excuse me?"  Mycroft asked confusion over his face.  Giving a small, yet sad smile Greg pulled open his bag and took out a small wrapped package.

"Don't deport me okay." He said as he put the package on his desk in front of Mycroft, who was staring.

"Why would I deport you?  And what's this?"

"Happy seven year anniversary Mycroft.   Today we've known each other for seven years.   I know your taste is way above my paygrade and imagination; however I saw this and thought of you. Anyhow.  Have a good day." Without waiting for a response he left leaving Mycroft baffled and staring at the package.   Slowly he opened the wrapping paper and when he saw what's inside he couldn't hold back the chortle.

It was one of those icono pop figures, a small man in a suit leaning on an umbrella.  He loved it. 

An hour before Greg left for the day he received an email.   Opening it his eyes widen in surprise. It contained a picture. The little figure he bought for Mycroft was standing next to a table, opposite there was another figure, one who was dressed as a cop.  There was a small note on the table with the word ' dinner?' written on it.

At the bottom of the picture Mycroft wrote a sentence.

"Since the dolls are celebrating a seven year anniversary, shall we join them?"

Laughing Greg just replied one sentence.

“Come pick me up."

 

 


	166. A list

14\. A list

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead with his fingers, trying to get rid of the onslaught of what can only be a migraine.

Ever since this morning it has been the one meeting after the other and he was tired.  He wanted to go home, this desert laden country was working on his nerves, and he was missing the green green grass of home as the song would say.

Standing up he went to the small refrigerator in the corner the need for some cold water.  

As he opened the door he blinked and stopped.   There was a small jug and instead of ice cubes was that plastic fake ice cube that keeps your drink cold without diluting the drink

The only thing was that the plastic cubes was orange and in the shape of fish.  A small envelope in a plastic bag was tied to the handle.  He quickly removes the bag and opened the envelope.  It said;

4\. Keep hydrated and know I miss you.

He went back to his desk and opened his journal, 3 notes fell out and he picked them back up he read them all again.

1\. Keep that beautiful skin safe.  (This note was attached to the sun screen bottle in his vanity case.

2\. Dream of me, as I'll dream of you.   (Was attached to his pyjama top.)

3\. Breakfast is the most important meal.   (This was placed under his cup)

He has been here for four days and it was four days too much.   He needed to go home.  Wanted to go home.   He also knew that it was Anthea who placed the notes since he packed and knew it was devoid of little messages which means Greg had an accomplice.

This won't do.   Making his mind up, putting in some extra work he was back home before nightfall, the first thing he did was to go to Greg's home.

Greg opened the door on the third knock.  His face lit up in the most beautiful smile Mycroft had seen all week.  He quickly closed the door and proceeded to kiss his boyfriend senseless.  

"You had an accomplice my dearest?”

"The notes?”

"Hmm."

"Anthea likes me, I've send her a list of all the small things she must do for me for you.   The notes are just the beginning."

 

 


	167. Relations

15\. Relations

Greg was at Baker Street, trying to convince Sherlock to pick up a case, which of course he was, as always playing the bored and reluctant child.  Usually Greg would try to convince the man but today he didn't care.  After several remarks and insults he stopped to turn to Greg.

"Why aren't fighting me for my help?"

Greg shrugged and sat down.

"Don't really feel like it.  Have other things on my mind."

"Like what?"

Sherlock stood up and walked closer to Greg, John stopped typing and watched the two, Greg was as relaxed as he could be as he let Sherlock walked around him and scrutinises him up and down.  Sherlock narrowed his eyes and then widen them in utter disbelief. 

"You're in a relationship.  You’re having relations with a man."

"Good job Sherlock, shall I reward you with  some ice cream?”

Sherlock scowled.

"Must have been a very good night since you really don't care what I say to you?”

"Yup. Very good night, weekend actually, since it's Monday and all."

"You went away for the weekend, yet there's no trace of the environment."

"It's because we didn't left the room."

"That's disgusting Lestrade."

"It was spectacular.  So want the case or not? "

"If I say no?"

"Well then it's obviously signs of the end times and I should go home for some more disgusting activities, want to die happy and spent."

John was impressed.  Sherlock just stood speechless and grabbed the folder.  Smiling at John Greg turned to leave at the door Sherlock stopped him.

"Who are you having relations with?”

"You sure you're old enough to know?  Maybe I should wait till you're over 18."

"Lestrade." Sherlock practically growled.

“Deduce it Sherlock." He stopped smiling and then turned dead serious.

"I am warning you though, all jokes aside if you try to wreck it, or screw it up, there won't be any mercy on you from my side.   I put up with a lot from you, but certain things are off limits." Leaving the two men alone and surprised he left.

Later that day Sherlock phone alerted him to a text.

"It's Mycroft, there are some family Trust documents I need to sign, he was out of the country this weekend and couldn't drop it off on Friday." John looked at him.

"So both your brother and Greg were away?”  That’s interesting.  He turned back to Sherlock who was frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Sherlock?”

 

 

 

 


	168. Fortitude

16\. Fortitude

Gregory stood still; he’s skin vibrating with the hidden anger and rage.   He was ready for action.  His natural instincts to protect and preserve on high alert.

He was the only thing standing between 4 armed men and one woman.  

He was on his way home when he heard the sound.   A women crying and running through the alleyways.   He stepped in the alleyway to help her and that's when he saw the men.  They were drunk and clearly looking for a way to proof that they were strong and alpha men. 

He quickly pushed her back and step in front of them. 

"Not so fast."

"Listen mate get out of the way, she's ours, we just want to play, she’ll like it, and it’s all good."

"Didn't look like she wants to."

He could hear her in the background crying and whimpering.  He just wished she would run, this wasn't going to turn out very good.  "Come on, we’ll even give you a chance." He looked up at the corners of the building, the CCTV cameras were in sight, but the question was "is anyone watching?"

"No thank you and I really think you should leave."

"And why should I listen to you."

Here it comes, if he tells them he is a cop, they won't hold back, and the woman is in real danger.  

He slowly stepped to her and took out his phone and badge.   He threw the phone to her and instructed.

"Speed dial 1 Mycroft Holmes, tell him everything and whatever you do run in to the nearest shop, or anything with people.  Now go."

She took his phone and looked at him.

"But..."

"Go!" He turned back to her, his fortitude relentless in front of the men.

"I'm a cop." He uttered and as once felt the air becoming electric.

He could hear in the background the woman heels as she run and the last thing he heard before they entered his space was "Mycroft Holmes? Please help..." after that it became a fight to stay alive and waited for help.


	169. Past /present

17\. Past/ present

Gregory was in his own world, just staring ahead as people walked by moving on with their lives.   He was sitting on off the benches overlooking the River,  it was low tide and people were actually building sandcastles on the sand.  He sat forward to get the sun out of his eyes and focused more on the artists building in the sand.

They were nearly done when the hair on his neck stood up; someone was watching him.  He's been sitting here for close to four hours, it can only be one person who was behind him.   He didn't feel like talking or acknowledge the presence so he just kept on looking at the beach. 

Ten minutes later the seat next to him was occupied.   On the shadow of the pavement he saw the outline of an umbrella, moving his eyes closer he saw the sky reflection in black polished shoes, with the immaculate stitching of a black pinstripe suit.  He moved his eyes up until it reach the owner.

Mycroft was waiting patiently, his eyes soft.  

Greg smiled and Mycroft followed by handing him a bottle of ice cold water, the drops still running down. 

"4 hours and 35 minutes, you’ll get dehydrated."

"Thanks." Greg took the bottle and nearly swallowed the whole thing.

He sighed and leaned back and pointed to the now sand living room made out of sea sand. 

"When was the last time you build sandcastles?"

"When I was twelve,  I was helping Sherlock to build a doghouse for Redbeard.  He was 5."

"That's a long time ago."

"Well the past is gone and as the saying goes 'the time for childish things has gone."

"I miss building sandcastles, the freedom and joy and innocence it represents."

It was quiet as they just look at the tourists and people taking photos of the living room.   There was a table and chairs, with the little pebbles placed as decorations.

"Gregory?"

"Saw my ex today, happily married and six months pregnant, she and the PE teacher are planning a holiday to Spain with his, their kids; they were buying beach toys and stuff."

"You wished it was you?  Happily married with a child on the way and planning beach holidays?"

"Oh God no.  I saw the latest designs in sandcastle designs and thought bloody hell; I only had a bucket and little red shovel."

"And that's why you're sitting for nearly 5 hours outside alone?"

"Was thinking about my future, or more precisely ours."

"And?" By now they were both leaning back sitting so that they faced each other, their hands on the back of the bench touching.   Their fingers playing with one another.

"We should go away for a mini break, go somewhere private and build sandcastles."

"Is that so?"

"Help me built a castle for us to grow old in."

"That sounds like a proposal?”

"Do you want it to?"

"Only instead of castles in the sand for our future, we build mansions on solid ground for our present...and future?”

 

 

 

 


	170. Twisted

18\. Twisted

 

No one dared to approach Greg as he left the building; he was practically raging with anger and fury.  His phone rang several times and he didn't even bothered to look at the screen, he knew if he was to take his phone out of the confinement of his pocket he will make sure it gets acquainted with either the closest wall or the pavement.   He didn't even bother to take the car back to the Yard instead he walked.  

He walked till he could find the nearest pub and bought a pint of the strongest beer there was.  

It took him less than five minutes to drink it all, after which he paid for the drink and left.  He walked until his feet couldn't anymore and sat on the bench overlooking the small pond.  His fingers shook as he tried to control the emotions inside.  

It was near dawn when he finally calmed down enough to go home.  With a resignation and weariness in his heart he left to go home.

 

As he turned the corner of the street he saw a familiar black car in front of his building.   Not in the mood he took his time until he reaches the door.  Mycroft climbed out of the car and walked over to him.

"I'm sorry about the ruling."

"It's beyond twisted you know.   He is so guilty but because he has a fucking posh title he gets away and an innocent victim doesn't get justice, why?"

"Gregory..."

"I'll tell you, because she is just a normal, blue collar girl.   Is this what England has become, is this what I'm fighting for? Oh and now you're probably going to deport me for insulting Queen and country, which if you do can you make sure there are no posh, titled and entitled Englishmen?" 

"Are you finish?"

Greg just nodded and walked into his flat; Mycroft followed and closed the door behind him.   When they entered the living room, Mycroft grabbed Greg and pulled him close into a hug.  Greg just buried his head in his shoulder and let the final remnants of his anger flow out.

"I'm sorry you had a horrible day and I'm sorry you have a grudge against that man, but trust me, men like that do get their comeuppance.  And if I deport you to some remote island can I make sure there is at least one posh English man?"

"As long as it's you."

"Can I be entitled certain aspects?"

"Depends?”

"Kissing you?”

"Definitely.   It's practically the island's requirement, like being granted a visa or passport."

"Brilliant."

"Sorry I took my anger out on you."

"Rather me than some other poor bloke."

 

 


	171. Bright

19\. Bright

 

Mycroft was running late, his parents were visiting and they were planning on going out for dinner.   This is the first time they came to visit him since he was in a steady relationship with Greg. Who hasn't met him yet, although they have spoken over the phone.   He knew Greg was home alone as he had the afternoon off, and he was planning on being there when his parents arrived to property introduce them.  So much for that plan.

The car stopped in front of the house and as he got out, Sherlock appeared from the shadows of the pillars.

"You're late."

"Meeting was longer than expected, what are you doing here?"  Sherlock just gave his twisted little grin.

"Came to say hi to Mummy and father."

"No you came to see me try and introduced Greg, is our humiliation worth it? "

"Oh yes.  Come on I want to see the uncomfortable and awkwardness start." He walked towards the front door and opened it he got as far as the end of the hallway before he froze.  Mycroft close behind, they turned their faces in a similar grimace as they heard the sounds.   Some country music was playing and both Greg and the Holmes parents were laughing.   As one they opened the door to the scene in front of them.   Greg and Mycroft’s parents were dancing to the music.   It looked as though they were teaching Greg to do the line dancing moves; he was standing between them moving in rhythm with them.  They were laughing and clearly the awkwardness and uncomfortable Sherlock was looking for non-existing.   When they turned they saw them, all three smiling when they saw them.

"My!" Greg cried out as he quickly stopped the music.   Mycroft and Sherlock were blinking trying to process the scene, until their mother gave each one a huge hug.

"Oh Sherlock,  so glad you came as well, usually it's a drag getting you here and Mikey,  so glad you're home.” They greeted with some shock but recovered quite quickly.   Mycroft let go of his mother and turned to Greg, his face bright with wonder and pride.  It's clear to see that he had nothing to worry about as his parents adored Greg and he evidently liked them, if their dancing was to go by.  Greg saw the emotions on Mycroft's face and took his hands.  Leaning in the softly said. "You needlessly worried Love, I told you it would all be fine, now relaxed and say hello to me."  With that Greg pulled him close and gave him a kiss.  Not a small chaste one, not deep and passionate just a good promised kiss.   Mycroft blushed as he let go.

“How am I supposed to say hello if you're kissing me?"

"Oh so the problem is not letting you say hi and I thought it's me kissing you in front of your parents and brother."

Mycroft stepped back as if he touch hot iron, avoiding his parent’s eyes.  His mother laughed. 

"Oh Greg, you really bring out the best in my boys, you can kiss Mikey all you want."

Leaning over he gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh I'm planning on it, no if you'd please; I think it's time for some tea."

"Greg dear, let Mikey get us some wine."

Mycroft stepped in.

"Of course."

Greg intervened.

"I shall...” turning to Mycroft..."Love, want to go freshen up?"  "Please, I won't be long." With one last glance Mycroft turned and went up the stairs, his head still overwhelmed with emotions. 

Greg lead the way for them to the kitchen but stopped halfway and called Sherlock over. 

"Here you go get some.  Got to talk to Mycroft, make sure he's okay."  With that he sprinted after Mycroft.   He found him in the bedroom holding Greg's hoody close to his face.

"Love?"

"Never in my wildest dreams and calculations I've ever thought that I'd be happy, that you would be here and getting along so well with my parents.   You are so amazing and beautiful, from the deepest corners of your heart to the brightest part of your soul.  I love you so much and my gratitude for not only for what you've done for my brother but my parents, and most of all to me.  You are more bright and illuminated than a thousand suns."

Greg just walked over tears running down his face as he pulled Mycroft close.

"Same Mycroft, you say I shine, yet you're the one who brought the life back in my life and heart and soul, as far as your parents go, to me they've achieved greatness in making you and I'll forever treat them better than a king or queen for giving you to me."

 


	172. Do what you do

20\. Do what you do

"Gregory you weren't supposed to know this about me." Greg wanted to cry at the expression on Mycroft's face.   The despair and self-hatred was etched in every line across his face, it clouded his eyes with heavy guilt, if he didn't know any better Greg would've sworn it was a complete different man standing in front of him.   Greg turned around to the small group of people in their living room, it was a complete mystery how they managed to break through, but they did.

Greg and Mycroft was out to a play and when they came back they were greeted to these little invaders.

What really made Greg angry was the absolute arrogance they had to not even bother with masks.   The leader stood in front of them, the rest in a half moon around them.

These past five minutes Greg had to listen to the apparent leader explaining why he was here and how Mycroft Holmes had to pay for his actions.   The spy and evidently a criminal mastermind.

"You exposed us, and now I've exposed you to your lover.  He'll hate you and I will kill you both, any last words?"

"I have." Greg spoke up for the first time since they broke in. They all turned to him except Mycroft who was looking down.  Greg stepped closer to Mycroft and put his hands on Mycroft's cheek.

"Love?" He whispered.  Mycroft didn't look up, so Greg bowed his head so that he could look up to him. With the tenderness feeling he had he gave Mycroft a kiss and buried his head in Mycroft's neck, his voice close to his ear.

"I don't care if you are a mastermind,  ruler, dictator or whatever they want to label you,  to me you are and always be the light in my life,  the love of my heart and soul,  the oxygen in my veins,  the breath on my lips, the man who shares his cake with me, who encourage me to have some upper hand on his brother,  who giggles with me when Sherlock and John are up to their usual  shenanigans  and if we are to die here,  I'll be happy as long as I go first,  because the small selfish part of me won't survive to see the beautiful light and sparkle leave your eyes.  However, knowing you, I know we are not going to die tonight so do what you do so I can replace that pain and doubt with love and trust?"

Mycroft was trying very hard not to breakdown as Greg spoke the only indication that Greg's words had an effect was the white knuckles clenching Greg's hands.  He turned his head to Greg and whispered, there was so many things he wanted to say and as a very educated man, and with multiple languages the only sentences he could say was.

"Thank you.  Same.  Trust me.  I love you." With that he kissed Greg as the men surrounding them fell down at once with a bullet in their heads. 

 


	173. Essence of summer

21\. Essence of summer

Greg closed the door with a soft thud.  It was a heavy day, filled with rushing around and constant noise.   He longed for the quietness and calmness of home. 

Kicking off his shoes and hanging his coat up he unbuttoned his shirt halfway as he made his way to the kitchen.  

He was practically always home before Mycroft so he would start dinner, but only after he relaxed a bit.  

Making some tea he went to the conservatory, his favourite relaxing spot in the house, it was always airy and calm, the sun keeping the place warm and fresh.  

He took a book and making him comfortable on the sofa he leaned back and read.

Mycroft found him later the evening, and it was obvious he had fallen asleep, the tea cup was cold, and the book open but Greg's eyes were closed.   His head resting in the corner of the sofa between the back and armrest.   To Mycroft he looked beyond adorable and sexy, the stress lines were smooth and with his hair so spikey he looked years younger. 

Mycroft picked up the book and placed it next to the empty cup.  Opening his legs he sat down on Greg's lap and buried his head in his neck.  Groggily Greg woke up and realising Mycroft was on top of him he pulled him closer.

"Hey."

"Good evening Gregory.   Sleep well? "

"Hmm. Lovely nap.  How was your day? "

"Much better now that I'm home."

"Know the feeling.   I forgot about dinner."

"How atrocious, what a bad kept man you are." Mycroft joked as he pulled away.   Greg smirked.

“We should discuss my wages then. Anyway before you throw me out, I bought you some of that special home blended tea you like."

"Bribery, in my own home."

"Well you do like the tea."

"Like you more."

"How about dropping me in some hot water and see what flavours I can come up with."

"Assuredly it will be better than my "essence of summer' blend."

"Assuredly."

 


	174. Reflect

22\. Reflect

Mycroft and Greg was strolling through the market,  it was as the story book of old would write up as the perfect summer's day, the perfect weather for a change,  happy families and people around,  some pets out in the park.  Real beautiful.

But not as beautiful or sexy as the two men, who every now and then would look at each other with the perfect smile, their hands would briefly touch and the electricity bill would run up.

They came to a small stall filled with flowers in all the range and colours you could think off, some were in bouquets, some in gift boxes even a few in pot plants.  Greg noticed how Mycroft would look at one flower, tilt his head and just embrace the smell. 

Making his mind up he walked over to the stall and bought it straight away.   Mycroft eyes were enquiring but Greg shook his head. He'll explain later.  

By late afternoon and after a morning of spending time and money in the market they went home.  

When Mycroft left the bathroom and came back to the bed, the flowerpot was on his bedside table, along with the flowers there was a small mirror pushed into the soil, with a small chain with two charms draped over the corner of the mirror.

He turned to Greg who was looking at him, he was obviously waiting for his response.

"Are you going to explain now?"

"Uh huh." Greg pulled Mycroft closer, his head on his heart, and comfortable in his arms.

"I saw the look on you when you smelt the flowers,  you were enchanted by them, and I want to see that look more on you,  the charms are as you can see a little umbrella and some cuffs, that's you and me, interwoven into the chain that will always bind us together.   And the mirror is that you will always remember; the best in me is you, you who reflect the best of you onto me."

 


	175. Clarity

23\. Clarity

Greg was having not the best of days, Sherlock woke him up just after four in the morning, chasing a criminal through some dark alleyway.  

Then John was held up with an emergency and couldn't help Sherlock,  so Greg had the good fortune to deal with Sherlock on his own, like so many years before. 

He had a fight with Sally before lunch as she once again had some bad decision making skills in her private life and spent the night with Anderson.

By three he was in a getting shit out meeting with his boss, and by the time he got home he was drained and exhausted.  

So when the knock on the door came at seven he pretended not to hear it.  Besides all the lights were off, except the small reading light in the corner, which no one could see.   The television was off as he was reading by the small table.  The knock came again which he ignored, again.  

He heard something off a small thump as an object was placed against the wall, he could see the shadow under the door and recognised the small pointed shadow, and it was an umbrella.   Two seconds later he heard his lock being picked.

Closing the book he ran his hands over his face.

"Holmeses... so alike."

The door opened and the tall impressive silhouette of one Mycroft Holmes could be seen.

"Pick locking?" Greg voice travelled over the room. Mycroft closed the door and turned to Greg.   He was covered in darkness as Greg was in light by the lamp.

"I tried knocking. No one opened."

"Yeah. I'm out for the evening, sorry."

"I'll just wait till he gets back."

"Is in important?”

"Very."

"Urgent?"

"Extremely." Greg stood up. All humour gone.

"Bloody hell Mycroft! What happened, how come you're so calm?"  Mycroft stepped closer so that he was in to light as well.

"I found some clarity today Gregory."

"Wait... what? "

"Clarity. I found some today."

"Okay.  I'm listening."

"I want to kiss you very much,  I have this irrational desire to pull you close and find out if you're lips are really as soft as I imagine.   I want to know if your breath would stop in your throat as cut off our oxygen supply.   I need to know whether you're body fits into mine, our fingers. ..."

Greg didn't give him a chance to continue as he pulled Mycroft close to kiss him

When they finally broke apart, there was huge smiles on their faces.

"I like you're idea of clarity My."

"It's Mycroft."

"Hmmmm."

 


	176. Know joy

24\. Know joy

"What are you watching?" Greg asked as he entered the room, Mycroft was leaning against the sofa; the TV was on some kind of documentary about movies.

Movies? 

"Mycroft is that movies?" Mycroft picked up the remote and pressed pause.

"Yes, it's a documentary about how horror movies started and evolved over the years, this episode is about the history in American horror, the other two are European background.  

Greg smiled as he saw how Mycroft's eyes lit up as he talked,  he was really into it, he turned back to the screen and saw the presenter talked about Frankenstein next to his statue. Mycroft pressed play and the man's amazing voice continued to talk about the original Frankenstein and the intended market it was aimed for.  Greg looked back at Mycroft who was so engrossed that the world can literally fell apart and he wouldn't notice. 

Greg was filled with so much joy and happiness that he was privilege to be witness to one of Mycroft's favourite vices.

He sat down next to Mycroft and allowed Mycroft to completely wrap himself around him as he watched.   He kissed Mycroft's head.

"Let it be known that we know joy."

"In each other and together."

"True, must say though that tall ginger presenter is very sexy;  especially with that beard.  Never knew facial hair can look that hot."

"I'm not growing my beard Gregory."

"Damn.  Worth a try though."

 

 


	177. Come together

25\. Come together

Greg and John were trying their utmost best to hide their smirks.   They were all four at Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson brought in some tea, after she placed the tray on the table she went over to them who sat on the sofa.

“What are they doing?"

John looked up, able to curb his giggling to an extent that testifies he's been doing it for some time.   Greg just picked up his mug of coffee and drank.

"Oh, Mycroft had the pleasure of informing Sherlock that their parents are visiting and they want a little 'come together' party..."

"Gathering." Greg interrupted.  

"...gathering and they want all four of us, and any of Sherlock and Mycroft’s friends to attend.   Do just get to know each other and commiserate."

With that he started giggling again and Greg joined him.  Sherlock and Mycroft was still staring each other and then turned to them.  

"This isn’t a laughing matter John, Gregory." Mycroft stated with an n icy tone, anyone else they would've tried to run, not these two, John just smirked and Greg started laughing all over again.

Mrs Hudson picked up the empty tray and gave a last comment as she left.

"Aren't those two boys just adorable?"

Greg got up and pulled Mycroft closer, his hands holding on to Mycroft's.

"I certainly think so. Personally I can't wait for this little 'come together' haven't seen your parents in a while."

"That's because my dearest Gregory, they have endless love for you."

Here Sherlock butted in.

“Especially since you're the only person alive who tolerates him and actually want to be around him."

Mycroft rolled his eyes but before he could retort Greg assaulted his mouth and swung Mycroft like he was some lady in a half way, so that Mycroft had no choice but to cling to him. When he lifted Mycroft up he turned to Sherlock.

"I'll gladly spend every moment available with him."

"That's disgusting Lestrade, don't kiss my brother like that on front of me. "  
"Oh in that case shall I try out different types of kissing to find out which one is acceptable to you? I really don't want to inconvenience you, there's the slam him against the wall, slam me against the wall, the lust fill one, passionate, tongue clashing..."  
As he went on Mycroft blushed as John chortled to the expression on Mycroft's and Sherlock's face. Embarrassment, with a hint of pride, disgust, and Greg was right out gleeful.   
"John, punch Lestrade." John tried to contain his laugh and held up his hands.   
"I'm so not getting involved."  
"Joooohn."  
"No Sherlock just be happy your brother is happy and think of the gory case."  
"The case, yes the case. You two can leave."  
"We will, see you at the gathering with your parents."  
 


	178. Cleanse

26\. Cleanse

Greg just stared ahead, he knew if he turns his head he will undoubtedly see what he is expected to see and then he would burst out laughing.  

'Don't look, don’t look.' He kept repeating in his mind, although the slight body shift next to him is so tempting.  

Instead he focused on the man in front of him.   The slimy, other plane of existence, flowy man who was irritating both him and Sherlock standing next to him.  Greg suspect that the only reason Sherlock hasn't said anything is because he doesn't really know how to respond.  Yet.

"And as you can see, the need for the moon dust around the room is reflecting the moon stone in the middle of the room next to the light.   This reflection calms a person and cleanse the soul while simultaneously provides protection against the evil of the night.   So as you can see there is no way this is a brutal murder, but a mere fatal accident, freakish I would admit, but definitely not murder."

"Listen sir, with all due respect,  there is no way that Mr. Laster was able to perish by an accident, the evidence of the gun and knife alongside two empty whisky glasses clearly indicate homicide."

"That cannot be..."

"Stop being an idiot." Sherlock's voice drowned the man's, who took a step back. 

He continued to ramble his deductions and Greg quickly write them down before he stopped.   The man stood flabbergasted and with his mouth open.

"And lastly, cleanse the soul, offer protection?  Unless he was killed by the tooth fairy or Tinkerbelle, there was definitely evil here, 'unprotected' and for cleansing the soul, how about I cleanse yours of your idiocy?"

With a swift he left the room, Greg following behind.

Once outside and out of earshot, Greg finally burst into laughter to the surprise of Sherlock.

"Why are you laughing?”

"Because this is so going on John's blog."

 


	179. On the line

27.  On the line

Greg didn't even bothered to get dressed for the day, he was in his old ripped jeans, no shirt and he hasn't shaved in two days.  He only ate take out, drank beer and watched football games, a collection on his satellite TV memory. Some was old but he couldn't be bothered.   It was for the love of the game. 

His phone alerted to a message and he looked at the screen: Sherlock.  

Well, no. He ignored it and it joined the last 15 messages from the Consulting Detective.   An hour later his phone rang and Greg groaned out loud.   He threw the phone down between the cushions on his sofa so as not to hear it. 

He didn't want to talk to anyone especially geniuses, older or younger version. 

After all it's the git's fault that he is at home, for the second week in broad daylight.

Is he sick?  No.

He is off because he got suspended.  The first detective Inspector in years to achieve suspension; not even a full year in the position. 

He trusted his instinct placed his job on the line and now he's paying for it.  

Evidence got lost in transit, some was incorrectly labelled, or more precisely Sherlock was so hasty in putting it back that he placed the wrong objects in the bags; meaning the case got thrown out and he was very lucky that he only got a suspension.

"That's what you get from allowing drug addicts on your crime scene."

"And what's that?" Greg nearly jumped through the roof when the voice spoke behind him.   Trying to calm his racing heart he looked at the man in his living room.   The posh elegant and majestic Mycroft Holmes.   Mycroft was the perfect example of patience as he stared at Greg, although he didn't expect the man to be half naked.   Those jeans were amazingly cut.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Greg asked once he got his breath back.

"Why are you at home? And what exactly to you get from allowing drug addicts on your crime scene?"

"Oh as if you don't know. Want a beer?"

"No thank you.   My apologies, you do seem to have one over me as I have no idea what you mean?" Greg shrugged and walked to the kitchen, while Mycroft used every brain cell at his disposal to memorise the walking perfectly sculpted man in front of him.

"You really don't know?"

"I don't."

"Should I ask for my tax money back as clearly your informants are slacking?"

"I assure you that I only..."

"Don't." The gruff tone made Mycroft close his mouth instantly.

"I know compared to you and Sherlock I'm a right idiot, but please don't insult me in my home.  You’re more than what you pretend to be, so stop pretend to be someone less.  To tell you what happened, Sherlock stole evidence and then replaced it in the wrong bags."

"Oh no"

"Oh yes, so the case got thrown out, a murderer is walking free, a family didn't get closure, I got made for a fool and after I put my name and my job on the line, I got suspended."

"Detective Inspector, I’m very sorry."

"Don't apologise to me, I'll live, however you can go to Mrs Fisher in Upton Park and apologise to her why her husband's killer walked." With that Greg turned around and walked back to the sofa, leaving Mycroft to follow him.

Mycroft stood in the doorway, looking at Greg and closed his eyes; he really wished Sherlock could use some sense in his life.

After about five minutes Greg turned to him.

"Why are you here?"

"Sherlock said you were ignoring him and refused to give him a case."

"Can't give him something I don't have.   Don't really want to talk to him still a little bit pissed off."

"You have every right to be, and I'll have a stern word with him." Greg nodded and then stood up again.

"Don't tell him the killer walked, I don't want him to feel responsible and have another relapse." Mycroft was speechless, after everything Sherlock did he was still trying to protect him, and look out for him.

"I won't.  Thank you Inspector."  He refused to say, that Sherlock will figure it out, he will deduce exactly the repercussions of his actions, all we can do, is hope he didn’t relapse. Walking to the front door he made a promise to use everything in his power to get the suspension withdrawn and to have stern talk to Sherlock

Mycroft got as far as the front door when Greg called out.

"Mycroft next time, just have a  beer with me and watched a game okay?"

"I don't do that."

"Then sit and keep me company, that’s what mates do all right?"

Mycroft smiled as he left, yes he can sacrifice a beer for that man.

 


	180. Old school

28\. Old school

Mycroft entered his office and the first thing he noticed was the smell, usually there is only the smell of the cleaners’ product, bleach with some sandalwood.  Today the smell is different; it was flowery, and fresh.  Looking for the source he found a bouquet of the most beautiful arrangements of flowers and green leaves.  It was magnificent; it was big and tied together in two beautiful bows, bright gold and silver.  The ribbons were intertwined together and he loved it. 

The whole office smelt absolutely amazing.  Putting his case down he walked over to the bouquet and picked up the card.

 

“To my ‘mine only’ 

Have a very pleasant day,

Don’t start a traffic jam ;)

Unless you have to.

Keep the lights green hey.

Oh. My love for you will stop when

The last flower wilts away.”

 

Frowning he looked closer at the bouquet then smiled broadly, in the middle was the most beautiful shiny dark rose he had ever seen a ‘black beauty’ the reason being it was made of the finest silk and artificial material.  He traced it with his fingers, it was so delicate and soft and very smooth.  It was to put it plainly: exquisite.

Looking at the flowers he would never believe that he was so fortunate and lucky to have a man like Gregory in his life. Gregory may forget some major events like anniversaries but he always, always goes out of his way in the small things he does.  Like this.

Like breakfast in bed, or having a picnic outside under the stars.  Last month he convinced Mycroft to dance to his favourite song in his pyjamas in the bedroom, he has never felt as loved and happy as he did in that moment.  Greg was very old school, he believed in love notes, small gestures, hand touches and all those little things, most people laugh at today, and would call corny.

His wife never understood it, she wanted the big and flashy things, but Mycroft understand, he knew it’s all about the little things.

His took out his phone and dialled.

“Love.”  Mycroft smiled fondly, Greg’s voice always could make him calm.

“Good morning, how did you manage the flowers?”

“Oh, it was just a minor plan, nothing to worry about.”

“Minor?”

“Yes.” Mycroft could feel and saw the cheekiness radiate over the phone.

“I will figure it out.”

“Of course you will, I have a very smart and clever partner.”

“I love you Gregory.”

“I love you, have a beautiful day, and I’ll see you tonight okay?”

 


	181. Hope for adventure

29\. Hope for adventure

 

Greg looked down at his phone, he was standing outside of the local pub, and John just left in a taxi.  It was one of those days that he had to play the local and cheap shrink to the good Doctor and the case of the crazy genius.  To be fair, if he lived with Sherlock, he would definitely need more than a pint every now and then.

On the other hand he’s dealing with both Holmes brothers, one every now and then when there is an interesting case, the other one once a week regardless of he spent time with Sherlock or not. Plus he has to deal with his feelings for the older Holmes, and try he’s absolute best to hide it.  Luckily so far, Sherlock thinks him an idiot and Mycroft thinks he is just a flustered angry old Detective. 

However, after reading the text he is not so sure anymore.  He and john discussed the craziness and escapades of Sherlock and Greg told John if he had hoped for adventure in his life, he is in the right place.  Yes there would be up and down, running and chasing, but once you’ve tasted it, you can’t go back.  He needed to reply. He read it once again.

“Please meet me at the following address.

We have much to discuss, especially our future together.”

 

That sounded ominous.  If they were dating, he would’ve known it meant either something good or bad, but since they’ve only had business meetings he was a bit unsure.  Well he can either be deported or disappear.  Maybe he’ll give me a change to say good bye. 

He texted back.

“On my way.”

It took him a little more than 30 minutes to reach the destination.  He stepped out of the car and blinked.  This is so not what he had in mind.  Not quite sure how to proceed he stepped out and looked around.

“Ah Detective.  Glad you could make it.”  Mycroft appeared out of the shadows like some vampire in a Bela Lugosi movie. 

“Mycroft.  You can call me Greg you know?”

“After tonight I might call you a lot more than that.”

“What?”

“I know how you feel Gregory, and I think I finally have enough courage to do something about it.  So would you please like to go on a date with me?  Right now?”

“Date? Now?”  he turned to look at the boat, it was just after 8 and the sun was just starting to set, it was beautiful how the rays caught the water.

“You sure?  Me?  I’m just a plain guy, yes, I like you, but you are why out of my league, like I’m high school football and you’re pro nation.”

“Actually I feel it’s the other way around, but what if I’m the one to hope for adventure, with you?”

Greg looked at him with disbelief and then slowly a smile broke out on his face, he held out his arm.

“I’ll say, lead the way.”

 

 

 


	182. My cup

30\. My cup. . 

This was Greg's favourite coffee shop in London; it was close to the Yard, quite small compared to the other commercial shops.  This one hand a personal feel to it, he has built up a friendly rapport with all the people that work there and they've come to know him and what he likes.

What he really liked as well was the little messages would be written on the cups, it always differs and always relate to a beverage, whether coffee, tea or hot chocolate.   Little quotes and pictures were drawn on the sides so every time he would buy coffee it would be a different design.  

"Gregory?" The voice startled him as he turned around to Mycroft.   He had a smile in the corners of his mouth, knowing exactly he caught the man off guard.

"My, what are you doing here?  Shouldn't you be at some meeting?"

"Postponed, however I do need to leave the country for a few days, and I thought instead of calling you, I would join you for a coffee?"

Greg was lit up with joy.

"I'd like that, not the ‘you leaving the country’ part, but the coffee part and telling me in person. Come on, my treat." Holding out his arm for Mycroft to go in first he followed him towards the cashier.

"Hi Louise can I please have two dark chocolate chai lattes please, oh and two cinnamon pecan tarts please."

"Gregory. ..."

"Shush.  My treat and I promise you these few calories will absolutely have no effect on your figure, not in this shop."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, you see these items are protected by very important things." Mycroft looked intrigued but smiled nonetheless as Greg took the tray with their stuff and followed him to a small table in the corner.

"One: Love two: this shop is one of a kind which means it is special and therefore no negative impact will affect it.  You’re safe."

"So what exactly is a dark chocolate chai latte?"

"Oh its heavens, it’s like a normal chai latte but they mix it with dark chocolate, giving it that small yet subtle bitter taste than to the overwhelming sweetness of the spice."

Mycroft leaned back, very impressed."

"How come you're such a connoisseur, yet at home it's all pizza, take out and beer?"

"Hidden talents.   Besides I drink coffee every day at the Yard and decided that when I'm not at the Yard I'll try some various drinks, this one stuck."

"You really like this shop." Greg just nodded as he took a bite out of the tart; Mycroft followed him and had to concede.   It's very good.   Taking a sip he saw for the first time the decorated mug.  He looked at Greg's and saw it was different, looking around the place he could see everyone was different.  He turned it around to read.

"My cup...

Overflows with love and kindness.

Only when the contents are finished,

Since they provided the love and kindness.

Especially if it's the first one for the day."

 

He turned Greg's mug to read his and Greg just sat back, a happy smile on his face, Mycroft was enchanted by the place he could tell.

"Some mornings are a coffee-valium-prozac-vodka-latte kind of day."

"That's very true."

They enjoyed their drinks and tart with content, just happy to spend quality time.  

When they were done and left the shop the atmosphere turned serious.

"How long will you be gone for?"

"Few days at the most, I'll call every chance I get."

"I know.  Be safe okay?"

"I'll do my utmost best."

"Just come back to me My."

"I will.  I promise."

 

 


	183. Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a wonderful shout out to everyone who read this, have commented on it and enjoyed it.  
> In case your wondering for this note. This is officially the halfway mark! 
> 
> Chapter 183, and another 183 to go.

1\. Prayer

Mycroft double check his case, all the necessary files were there and his luggage were seen to.   He had to leave the country for some time, this was never an issue but now that he was in a relationship and has a partner, this little trip is a bit too much to bear. 

Of course he would never admit it, after all it wouldn't do for the Ice-man too show he is actually a puddle of fluff and sentiment for a certain detective.  

He was nearly late for the flight as he and his detective said properly goodbye and wishing well....

He wish he was already home.  As the plane took off he put in his headphones and went through his playlist on his phone.   There was a new one "Love".  Can only be Gregory.

There was no track titles just numbers.  The strange thing was that it was numbered as 1. And 1a then 2 and then 2a.  He pressed 1.

“The moment I wake up  
Before I put on my makeup  
I say a little prayer for you  
While combing my hair now  
And wondering what dress to wear now

I say a little prayer for you  
Forever and ever,  
you'll stay in my heart  
And I will love you  
Forever and ever, we never will part

Oh, how I love you  
Together, forever, that's how it must be  
To live without you  
Would only mean heartbreak for me"

Mycroft haven't heard the song in years and only knew it existed because his mom liked it.  After the song it went to 1a. It wasn’t a song but Greg's voice.

"Hi Love, sorry for stealing your phone and adding this little playlist.   I have no idea how long you'd be gone for, but know I'll wait for you.    
Please don't think of a damsel waiting for her hero to come back from his adventures, travels and so on.  Just know that you NEED to come HOME to ME,  as the song says,  living without you would be heartbreak. 

Oh I do not wear make-up,  don't really comb my hair, unless you count my hand's ruffling combing, but I do say a small prayer for your safety,  and that you come home,  also to say thank you that you love me as I love you   

I don't know if there is a higher power, but a small part believes, because there is no way that I could be so lucky to be on the receiving end of your love.  Must have done something right.   
Anyway, every song is chosen especially for you, to let you know I miss and love you.    
The next one is rock, I know the 'horror ' I'm subjecting you too... it's the one I always sing in the shower.   'Living on a prayer' by the one and only Bon Jovi. The message here is..." here Greg started singing. 

"We've got each other and that's a lot.  
For love we'll give it a shot."  
Whoa, we're half way there  
Whoa, livin' on a prayer  
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear  
Whoa, livin' on a prayer...”

"But this is where my help stops.  I gave you the little message for the second song, the rest you'll just have to listen and find out for yourself.  

Lastly I love you Mycroft Holmes.   Whatever you feel and know and whatever you do,  never ever forget that I love you,  not your name,  you’re position,  you’re power,  you’re money and all that.  But you.    You as in you who you are. Get that? Come back to me.  Okay?"

Mycroft was finding it very hard to hide his emotions,  luckily he sat next to the window and just hide his face away from Anthea as he listened to the message,  softly he whispered against the glass "I love you too Gregory" and promised himself he would do everything possible to get home as soon as he could.  

Until then this playlist will keep him going.

 

 

 

 

 


	184. Confer

2\. Confer 

Greg stared at the papers in front of him, taking into account that as a cop and as a detective Inspector he is quite good at administrative duties and paperwork.   He was in charge of his marriage documents and mortgage and all the policies and so forth, the tax papers and there have never been one problem or glitch. 

This is why he is having a difficulty comprehending the documents in front of him.

He looked up at Mycroft, who on the outside was the epitome of calmness and contentment.   His eyes however were a dark blue storm in the midst of the oceans.   The only give away that this is serious. 

Greg looked back at the papers, there were little post it signs that indicated where he should place his initials and on the last page his whole signature and name.

"I knew something was up when you called and said I had to meet you here to ‘confer’.  You never used confer before, always discus or address or something like that,  I didn't think it was this severe.   Are you a hundred percent certain My?"

Mycroft picked up his glass of brandy and took a small sip, the first one for the day.

"Yes.  Very sure.  I need to know that all will be well in case something happens to me."

"Bloody hell Mycroft, do you have any idea how big this is?  Have you spoken to Sherlock about it?  What about your parents?"

"Gregory calm down.  I have given it a tremendous amount of thought and have conferred both my parents and little brother.   Remember last weekend when my parents were visiting?"

"Yes." Greg answered his head slightly tilted.

"Well I asked them for a meeting here at the office and Sherlock was present.  I've discussed this with them and the results were unanimous."

"Even Sherlock's?”  Greg couldn’t hide the scepticism out of his voice.

"Yes, he does trust you and have a certain fondness for you, you know?"

"Myc, this is everything.   I'd rather have you alive."

"Trust me,  I've never been this dedicated to staying alive since we've been together,  but anything can happen,  and if they do, I need to know that those left behind will be without worry or qualms, especially you."

"But I will if you're gone, I want to be gone too."

Here Mycroft actually let the mask fell and pulled Greg into the closest and tightest hugs he could mustered.

"Same.   I feel the same, but I can only rest my soul, knowing you will take care of my family."

"How about I say no, and then you comeback as a ghost and we look after them together?" Greg tried for humour, but failed as he tried to keep the emotion and tears at bay.

"I love you Gregory Lestrade, you’re the only man I trust with my family and my heart.  Please, I know this is hard, but I need to know you'll do it."

Greg nodded as best as he could while being in Mycroft's arms.

"Anything for you, teach me how to deal with this, what to look out for in the markets and world, train me how to be the best caretaker for your family."

Mycroft slowly let go and looked into Greg's eyes.

"I can't my dearest, you’ve already excelled far more than I could ever hope for, but I will show you the markets and the legal side of things."

 

 


	185. Explore

3\. Explore

Greg woke up with a smile on his face, considering that he is not really a morning person and he has never felt the need to wake up in the mornings and pretended to be a Disney cartoon character he did find himself waking up some mornings with a smile on his face.  

Well to the more precise, the mornings he gets to wake up with Mycroft in his arms.   Mycroft has this way where he would re-enact an octopus and wrapped himself so tight around Greg that he can hardly move. 

Greg doesn't complain, he loves it.  He just wished that he could move his arm, just to the bed side table where his phone is, the phone which happens to have a camera in. 

Maybe today, he slowly lifted one of Mycroft's arms and slowly moved it a little down his chest.  After five minutes of hard and impossible work he reaches the bedside table. 

Just a little more.  He stretches out his fingers but they only grabbed air, groaning slightly he kept on trying and voila his fingertips touch the phone.   As he moved to pull it closer,  a slim and pale hand grabbed onto his wrists.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft asked as his voice tickled the hair in Greg’s neck.

"Umm, checking the time?"

"Hmm, thought you said we are not going to be looking at a watch or any schedule as this is our holiday?"

"Checking the weather?" Greg tried again, knowing Mycroft can see right through to lie, even eyes closed.

"You also said we will not be ordered around by the weather, if it's raining we'll be in bed, sunny we will explore the area.  And to answer your next excuse, you said we will determine the weather by looking at the sky."

"Hmm well."

"You were trying to take a picture weren't you?”

"Yes. It's just you look so adorable and cute wrapped around me."

"Adorable? Cute?" Mycroft asked, his eyes still closed but placing soft kisses on Greg's shoulder.

"Yes.  Come on, one picture of us in bed."

"Very well." Mycroft sighed as he just lost a huge argument and let go of Greg's wrist. Greg smiled as he picked up his phone.

"I'm keeping my eyes close just so you know.”

"Okay." Greg held the camera and then took a picture. 

"Thanks Love."

"You can be very fortunate that I love you as much as I do."

"Oh I'm ecstatic." Greg put the phone down and pulled Mycroft closer, kissing him softly.  

"You know Gregory, since we're up it looks like a beautiful sunny day, shall we go explore? "

Greg looked up at the sun shining through the curtains, even close, he can see the light.

"Actually it looks like a very rainy and dark day outside, maybe we should stay in?”

"You're incorrigible."

 

 


	186. Ponder

4 ponder

Mycroft frowned at his phone and looking closer he read the text again. 

"Why do they call it lipstick if you can still move your lips?"

Sighing he dialled the number.

"Gregory?"

"No it's me." Came the baritone voice.

"Sherlock where is Gregory? Did you send me that text?"

"No, that's was Lestrade, I answered because John is looking him over." Mycroft was instantly alert

"What happened?"

"The suspect caught him off guard, gave him a shiner and he fell against the wall, hit his head,  otherwise he is fine,  just more annoying,  asking weird questions."

"Can I please talk to him?”

Mycroft could hear how he passed the phone to Greg and John's voice in the background, saying something about a concussion.

"Mikey Love I miss you."

"Gregory, are you all right?”

"No. One part of me is all right, the other half is all left.   Isn't that weird?"

Mycroft heard John's snicker in the background and Sherlock’s groan.

"Gregory put John on the phone."

"I can't put John on the phone, he won't fit, and he'll break it."

He could hear other sounds then John came on.

"Mycroft?”

"Are you taking him to a hospital or home?"

"Baker Street.  We'll need to keep a close eye on him for the next 24hours.   We can do it in shifts."

"I'll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later Mycroft met them at Baker Street, Greg was sitting on the sofa staring intently in front of him.

"Gregory.” Mycroft walked over to him and ignoring everyone else he kissed Greg.

"Don't scare me like that."

"But My, you love horror movies."

"Movies, not my partner getting his head slammed against a wall, or punched in the face." Mycroft could see the beginnings of a shiner around his left eye.

"Sorry Love.  Love, why do they call it a boxing ring if it's a square? "

Mycroft turned to his brother and John.   Sherlock was staring at Greg perplexed and fascinated, John just looked so done with all the drama.   He answered Mycroft silent question.

"He's been spitting out these random questions since the incident."

Greg turned to Sherlock.

"Sherlock did you know when we brush our teeth it's the only time we clean our skeleton?”

Sherlock blinked and turned to John who shrugged.

"It's going to be a long night."

"Love these are important things to ponder you know.   For example, why is it called rush hour if it’s so slow?   Or... Sherlock listen to this it's up your alley, if you choke a smurf, what colour does it turn to?"

Mycroft couldn't stop the laugh at his brother's face. 

It's going to be an interesting night he wondering what else Greg's mind will come up with.


	187. Plot

5\. Plot

Greg was over at Baker Street, John was making some tea and Sherlock was sticking the case files and copies against the wall. 

"Why don't you just get one of those white boards, then you stick and draw and make arrows and play around." Greg asked as he handed Sherlock some more tape. 

"That's boring." Greg looked at Sherlock.

"You know you keep using the word 'boring' are you sure it means what you think it means?" Greg asked a smile on his lips.  Sherlock turned to him affronted.

"I'm a genius, I know what it means." Greg just laughed and took one of the mugs John handed to him.

"Thanks, so how's the case going?"

"Our genius resident is looking at it know." Sherlock ignored him as he stared at the wall, decorated with photos and papers.

Every now and then he would ask a question and Greg would answer as best as he could. 

They were so busy they didn't see Mycroft walking in and staring at the wall.

"Why don't you just get a white board if you insist on sticking it everywhere?"

"That's what I said!" Greg cried out while Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Mycroft ignored him and walked over to Greg.  He leaned into his personal space.

"Good day detective Inspector."  Greg smiled back.

"Hello British Government."

"Oh, so disgusting."

They ignored him; Mycroft did however leaned against the table standing close to Greg.

"You didn't answer, what are you doing here?"

"Came to say goodbye." He turned to Greg.

"Have to go away for a day, two at the most. I'm on my way to the airport now and Baker Street is on the way."

Greg smile disappeared, and he became serious, he grabbed Mycroft's hand and pulled him into the kitchen.  John and Sherlock just stared at them as Mycroft obviously had no problem being pulled around by Greg. Once in the kitchen Greg turned to Mycroft.

"Do you have to go?”

"Unfortunately yes, I just have to be present at a very important meeting, some things can only be said in person.  Don't fret."

"I will, you know I will."

"I know." He looked down at his watch.

"I have to go. I'll see you in two days."

"48 hours I'm counting down."

"So will I." He walked back into the living room and took a photo and replaces it next to the victim.  He turned to Sherlock.

"Quite a close resemblance for only a distant cousin, don’t you think brother mine, I do believe your plot is thickening.  Take care." With one last look he left the room, Sherlock following behind.

"Am I to keep Gregory entertained while you're gone?” Mycroft could see Sherlock was trying not to show his concern, usually he wouldn't even bothered with him leaving but these last few months,  something changed.

"Only if it will make you worry less about him messing your case." Mycroft knew Sherlock was aware that he was actually talking about Sherlock's worry but played along.

"Two days brother mine.  I'll be back."

 

 


	188. Procrastinate

6\. Procrastinate

The look was of intense focus and concentration, to the outsider looking in; you would think that Greg is busy with very important work.  That is until you take a closer look at the paper.  

Greg was doodling and drawing.  Mycroft promised he would take Greg out to lunch and was there to pick him up.   He frowned, if Greg is very busy maybe he shouldn't bother him.  Maybe he should order some take out.  He just pulled out his phone when he looked closer and Greg gave a gleeful smile then went back to work.  There is no way that smile was the result of a case, maybe Sherlock did something.  Mycroft eyes caught the paper and he gave a resigned sigh. 

Honestly, sometimes he thinks Greg is just as bad as Sherlock. The man was drawing pictures, in work time.   Without knocking he opened the door and went in.

"Hello Gregory."

Greg looked up, with an expression Mycroft could only say was as a little boy with his hand in a cookie jar.  It was so innocent yet guilty he just couldn't keep his poker face.

"Mycroft!  Uhm what are you doing here?  Thought I'm meeting you outside at one for lunch? "

"Yes. It's ten past, case keeping you busy?" Greg ruffled his hair.

"Got a bit distracted.  I had an overwhelming desire to draw a major artwork piece. You know what they say, when inspiration struck..."

"Procrastinate.   That's the description you're looking for."

"Inspiration."

"Gregory..."

"Tomáto, tomató."  Mycroft just shook his head, he really will not win this one.

"Shall we go?” he tried to hide the piece of paper as best as he could without Mycroft seeing, but the British Government does have some skills and before he could hide it in his drawer, it was in Mycroft's hands.

Mycroft looked at the picture, the raising of his eyebrows and pouting of his mouth the only expression. 

Greg drew, and Mycroft had to admit it was a very good drawing of him and Mycroft,  they were standing underneath his open umbrella kissing while the rain was pouring down around them, Greg held Mycroft bridal style in his arms as a big puddle was around their legs.  There were two dialogue clouds on top, one for each of them. Mycroft's cloud had the words in flowing hand writing:

"I'll always keep you safe from the storms"

In Greg’s cloud were the words in his obvious handwriting.

"I'll always carry you through the storm."

Mycroft swallowed the lump in his throat.   How did he ever manage to get the attention and love of this man? Greg resembled beetroot in colour as he stood quiet to the side.

"The word is procrastinate." He softly said.  Mycroft finally looked up at Greg, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"Inspiring sounds more like it.  May I please keep it? Or at least have a copy?"

"You like it?"

"I love it."

"Sure take it then, it's not really Da Vinci or Van Gogh standard but..."

"It's much better and priceless." Greg could only smile as Mycroft took two clean printer pages and put his sketch in between and then delicately rolled it up.

"Shall we go and have lunch?”

"We shall.  I'll need substance if I'm to draw more priceless art.  We can sell them and go live on a remote island."

"Don't tempt me Gregory."

 

Mycroft made several copies, one for his office (and all the other offices too) One smaller one for his wallet and the original?  Well that one got a special place in a frame on his bedside table.

After all, he'll keep Gregory safe while Greg would carry him throughout every storm they might pass.

 

 


	189. Rain drenched

7\. Rain drenched

The rain came suddenly and out of nowhere.  Greg and Mycroft were visiting his parents in the country and decided to take a stroll before afternoon tea.   Mycroft didn't take his ever present umbrella with him and while his dad was taking an afternoon nap, his mom was baking a lovely lemon teacake.  Greg wanted to help, but Mycroft convinced him a walk would be better.  

Now here they are, completely soaked through as they had no choice but to keep walking in the rain, after all there weren't really any cover out in the country.  

Mycroft complained that his shoes were uncomfortable and squishy so Greg laughed and shook it off.

Mycroft stared as Greg rolled up his trousers and took off his shoes and socks, his toes curling into the grass.  Mycroft found it very sexy.   Seeing his expression Greg laughed out loud, grabbed Mycroft and clashed their mouths together.  

All comprehension and wit left Mycroft's brain as his fingers clawed through wet shirt to pull him closer, every rain drop that rolled down Greg's face tasted like him as it tried to invade his mouth.   Luckily Greg tongue was more than capable to keep the raindrops out.  Mycroft's hands slid down the now sleek jeans over Greg's arse and gripped tighter.   Greg groaned into his mouth.  

Finally they broke apart and Greg crouched down, untying Mycroft's shoes he removed them as well as Mycroft’s soaking socks.  He placed the socks in his left pocket, where his is in his right pocket.  He rolled Mycroft's trousers legs up as well so both of them were standing in the rain barefoot.  Mycroft had to concede, he felt strangely free and comfortable like that.  Must be Gregory’s influence. 

Greg then tied the laces together and took both pair of shoes in his left hand.   It hanged on their laces.  He took Mycroft’s hand in his right.

"Come on Love let's go home.   I'm sure that your mum's tea would be splendid."

At a reasonably fast pace they went home.  Mummy saw them through the window and could barely contain her tears.  She hasn't seen her eldest so carefree and happy since he was a small boy.  Walking barefoot and rain drenched he looked as though he just inherited the sun and all its light.  She turned to Greg and her heart expanded with love for this young handsome man who was much better than any sunlight to her son.

Knowing them wouldn’t be happy to see her crying she quickly fetched two huge towels and waited at the door.   As soon as the door opened they ran to her.

"You silly boys, all rain drenched, come in before you catch a cold."  She quickly passed them each a towel and even attempted to dry them off; Greg happily smiled and stood still as she padded his back and hair dry with the towel.

She then moved on to Mycroft as well.

"You need to quickly take off that wet clothes and put something dry on, tea is ready and the cake just out the oven."

"Tea?" Greg asked with bright cheer.  "Can we please have tea and cake before we get dressed?" He put on his best puppy dog eyes.

Needless to say, her boys were five minutes later sitting in front of the fire, on the floor under a blanket with a cup of steaming tea and a huge slice of cake.

 


	190. Ambition

 

 

 

 

 

 

8\. Ambition

 

Mycroft was a bit miffed, he has been in meetings for more than 90% this week; he hasn't seen Greg nearly enough,  which is unsettling because he never would have thought that one person who'd have so much power over him. 

 

He was tired and fed up with politeness for the sake of it.   He longed for a real and honest conversation and unfortunately he can only get that with Greg.

 

Greg who was at the moment taking tests.  Mycroft remembered the laughter and joking as Greg studied.  

 

"My, I didn't even study this hard in College!"

 

"Clearly,  and yet you had excellent scores, imagine what you would've achieved if you did pay more attention? "

 

"Couldn't.  Too broke."

 

"Pardon? Did you just made a pun reference?;

 

"Yup."

 

"Oh Lord, you should've gone into acting or comedy."

 

"Would you have dated me if I was some Hollywood or BBC celebrity?  Just think, could've played a fake detective in some crime show."

 

Mycroft rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smirk off his mouth.   Greg was so adorable and sexy with that cheeky face and sparkling eyes. Truth is, he could imagine Greg as a celebrity.   He had the persona, charisma and the looks, a deadly combination.

 

"You're ambition is ground-breaking."

 

"Aaw. Thanks Love, probably less dangerous than a real cop, but I wouldn't have met you so I'll think I’ll give stardom a miss."

 

"And I thank you for your sacrifice.  Now study so I can test you."

 

"Will I be punished if I'm not good?" Greg gravely asked and Mycroft blushed.

 

"Gregory!"

 

"Yes sir?”

 

Mycroft couldn't answer as his eyes filled with lust.  Of all the partners in the world, he had to settle for Greg.   Although he wouldn't change it even if he could.

 

He did test Greg on his work and helped him to be prepared as much as possible.   He admired the tenacity and ambition of Greg to keep learning, to keep expanding his abilities and the latest behaviour analysis and profiling course would certainly help him in his career.

 

He really is very glad Greg didn't become an actor. If he did, he just might have to extend his power into the world of entertainment.


	191. Innovate

 9. Innovate

 

It was their first real serious fight.  They've been dating for about seven months now and this was the first fight.   It had to happen sometime right. 

 

Mycroft came home but it was quiet, he didn’t see Greg's car which only means he isn't planning on coming over. 

 

'Maybe he is still at work." A little voice said in his mind.   He shook his head; no Gregory left the Yard two hours ago.  He sighed, well early night for him then.

 

With slow steps he climbed the stairs and took off his suit once he got into his room. 

 

Getting undressed he went into the bathroom for a shower.

 

The wardrobe door quickly opened and Greg came peddling out, trying his best not to make a sound. He quickly took Mycroft pyjamas and hid it away in a drawer, he also hides his gown and in its place he put a very large black T shirt on the bed.  He hid away and waited.

 

When Mycroft finished his shower he was using the towel to dry his hair, putting it down he frowned.   His clothes were gone and instead there was a massive black something.   He hesitantly picked it up.  It was obviously an altered t shirt, but it was wider, much wider than normal.  In front was the word "Our get along shirt."

 

He looked around the room.

 

"Gregory?" His voice was soft, and hesitant.  He received no answer.  He looked at the shirt again.

 

"I'm not wearing it!" He exclaimed out, louder this time.

 

There was no answer.

 

"I'm serious, I know you're here somewhere in the house, so just come out and talk to me."

 

He looked under the bed, nothing.

 

He tried the wardrobe, nothing.

 

"Gregory!"

 

"Blasted." With a sigh he quickly pulled the shirt over his face all the time muttering about detectives and childishness.

 

He looked in the mirror and frowned, he looked ridiculous.

 

Greg's voice came out of the shadows in the corner of their room.

 

"Looks like it was made for two, missing a piece?"

 

Mycroft turned and his retort froze on his face.  Greg was giving him the softest and fondest looks.

 

"I am.  A big piece, the only piece that matter; you."

 

Greg looked at Mycroft and then he quickly removed the gown he was wearing.  He was naked underneath and pulled the shirt over his face.  He smiled at Mycroft and turned to the mirror.

 

"Gregory, this is ridiculous."

 

"It’s innovative, it's our get along shirt, so whenever we fight we'll have a time out and wear this in this shirt."

 

Mycroft couldn't help but smile at Greg's explanation he bowed his head and kissed him.

 

"I'm sorry for what I said."

 

"I'm sorry for what I've said."

 

"Gregory, I think we should innovate some other time consuming activities in this shirt."

 

"We are quite close aren't we?"

 

"Very and we are supposed to get along in it."

 

"I think we're doing well."

 

"Shut up and kiss me."

 


	192. Sonnet

10\. Sonnet

The first puzzle piece came on a dreadful rainy morning, the crime scene compromised by the running rivers of rain down the alleyways.   His team was frustrated and Greg's was barely hanging on to the little sanity he has left.

It came with a huge take away coffee, his favourite mix. A a small crystal gemstone was tied with a ribbon around it, the puzzle piece attached to it.

Removing the ribbon he read the piece

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off."

Greg was a bit surprised he didn't really understand what that was supposed to mean, but knowing Mycroft is was going to be good and quite emotional.   Considering that this was the first puzzle piece he just has to have patience and wait and see.   Still the coffee was fantastic and the puzzle piece went into his wallet.

The second one came through post, a big brown envelope with his name on, he gave a slight panic, because the last time he received documents in a brown envelope,  it was his divorce papers.   When he opened it contained a smaller envelope in beautiful black paper, expensive paper with his name in golden letters.  It was hand written.

As he opened that letter there was another piece of puzzle.

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

There was nothing else written and Greg's day still was infinitely better than before.  He still may not have all the pieces but he knows for certainly that this message or whatever Mycroft is trying to say will be without a doubt one of the best things anyone has ever done for him.

Although he is not the most patient man out there alive, he can be quite willing to persevere, he waited years for Mycroft, and this puzzle game will be a piece of cake.

Over the next few weeks he would randomly get a little puzzle piece with two lines of poetry.   Halfway he realized it was a sonnet and if he really wanted to he can Google it and find out what it is supposed to mean.  But he won't.  He'll patiently wait.

Mycroft personally gave him the last piece; they just had dinner and went home.   Greg came out the bathroom after his shower when he entered the bedroom.   Mycroft sat at the edge of the bed, a single rose in his one hand and a puzzle piece in the other.   He was hesitant, shy and unsure of himself. 

"My?" Greg walked over to him, to offer some comfort and Mycroft just stared in his eyes.

"I had a deep love and admiration for this particular sonnet since I was small.  It is not one of Shakespeare or even Browning.  It was Pablo Neruda and it just stayed with me. Greg reached out and took the piece his heart soaring.   With the towel still around his waist he walked over to the drawer Mycroft gave him in his wardrobe, slowly but surely he was moving in, without them actually discussing it. He took out his a small wooden box and let the content fall on the bed. It was all the pieces he had received.  "Help me built it." Greg asked and Mycroft quickly helped him to put the pieces together.  

When it was done he read it out aloud.

"Sonnet xvii

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,  
Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms  
But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers  
Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance

Risen from the earth, lives’ darkly in my body.  
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly without complexities or pride.

So I love you because I know no other way.  
Than this: where I do not exist, nor you,  
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."


	193. Movement

11\. Movement

Movement

The act, process or results of motion.

Mycroft knew what it meant, what the rational and logical term means and represent.   Right now his heart didn't care or could be bothered.   His heart on the other hand... well his heart is transferring the information if movement and applying it to a more sentimental and irrational sense.   Movement means life, no movement means no life. 

He already called the ambulance,  and notified the private hospital to wait for an arrival,  every beat of his heart hope that it will be the hospital that would receive the arrival,  not the other pat, the part that begins with a M, ends with an E and have a very good person in charge with the name of Molly. 

His car was ready mentally having a few stern words to Gregory about his apparent need to help everyone that resulted in an accident.   An accident where Gregory apparently wanted to test his skills against an oncoming car. 

It was by pure chance he decides to see where Greg was, so he could pick him up for lunch.  

His heart stopped beating as he saw Greg pushed the boy out of the way and his body slamming into the car he saw Greg hurling through the air, just to come to a sudden stop on the pavement.   He hasn't moved since. 

He arrived just as the ambulance did, and made sure he pushed through the circle of spectators to the man on the ground.   There was a civilian, a doctor who was checking his vitals and making sure he was alive.  If he was.

Mycroft stared as he watched the Emergency services look him over.  He was alive, but barely.   Mycroft could see his leg was broken and there was some swelling on the right side of his body, his face was full of scratches and blood all around and underneath him.

He climbed in the ambulance alongside Greg and grabbed his hand.  It was cold.

"Gregory?" He would utter and whisper as he tried to get him to wake up.  

They arrived at the hospital when Mycroft felt hope for the first time. 

Greg eyelids fluttered open but was not responding. It was enough.

He felt movement.


	194. Discretion

12\. Discretion

'This was unexpected.' Greg though as he and Mycroft hide away behind the tree.  They decided on a walk for lunch and were sitting on the park bench each with a sub. 

Greg was just so happy that after all this time of dating and dedication, he could finally get Mycroft to eat without worrying about his diet or food. 

He even played the sub is healthy because all the ingredients are salad ingredients and therefore healthy.

Mycroft retaliated by indicating the sauces and mince balls and steak pieces aren't exactly salad material, but Greg won the debate by saying he didn't had to put it on his sub and therefore irrelevant. 

Mycroft didn't have a retort so they ordered their subs and ate in peace.

It was on their way back to the office when Mycroft apparently saw someone and pulled Greg behind the tree to hide.

"Is it terrorist?" He whispered strengthening his hold in Mycroft, ready to protect him.

"Worse" Mycroft replied as he inch closer to Greg. Greg adrenalin levels spiked. 'Worse.' Shit. What the hell?

"Where's your security team?" He uttered trying to control his worry.  Mycroft finally looked away from whoever it was and turned to Greg his expression between fondness and surprise.

"You're stressed and very worried." He placed his hands on Greg's neck, feeling his pulse.

"Your pulse is erratic."

"Of course it is.  Its broad daylight and we are hiding from someone who apparently is worse than terrorist. We are alone, your security is who knows where and how the hell am I to protect you?"

"Protect me? Why?"

"Seriously? What the hell Myc. I love you, and don't want to lose you." Mycroft just stared at Greg; trying to process the information Greg was very serious and worried about his safety.  He loves him, and wants to protect him.  Not caring who sees he pulled Greg close and kissed him.

"Wow! And here I am, causing a public nuisance and need to control my impulses and all that." Greg pulled away to stare at the man behind the voice.  Sherlock.  He turned to Mycroft who hasn't attempted to move away.

"His worse than terrorists?"

"Of course." Mycroft replied finally moving a little away, but still very close to Greg.

Greg just look at the two brothers and started laughing. 

"That's great.  Wonderful.  Sherlock what are you doing here?"

"Can ask you the same thing."

"Until Myc pulled me behind the tree we were having lunch and walking."

"Myc, and he hasn't deported you yet? How long has this been going on? And why wasn't I informed?"

"Discretion.  Besides what does it matter who I have lunch with, it’s not like you care."

"But he's my DI?"

Greg tried to say something but Mycroft smiled he stepped closer to Sherlock.

"We've been together for five months now, he just told me he loves me and I love him.  Also I now every inch of his body, your name is not on there."

It was quiet. Sherlock just stared at his brother in a mixture between shock and repulsion, Mycroft couldn't care less.  Greg blinked and then with the brightest smile he could muster he took Mycroft’s hand.

"You love me?"

Sherlock left them alone as clearly they only have eyes for each other.   He walked away for about ten yards and turned around.   Mycroft's was holding Greg's close to him, one arm around his waist, the other around his neck as they kissed.

Sherlock gave a smile.  

There goes the discretion idea.   He quickly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

'John will need proof.... Maybe Mummy as well.....'

 


	195. Illusion

13\. Illusion

Greg looked around at the gallery.   There was a special exhibition on illusions and optical illusions.   It was fascinating.

He would walk from one to the other thoroughly enjoying himself.  Mycroft had asked him here for a meeting, Greg couldn’t possibly fathom why here of all places, but now that he is here, he isn't complaining. He never had a problem with art or exhibitions.   He may not have intimate knowledge of artists and paintings and sculptures, but he most certainly did not have a problem admiring it.

He was so engrossed in the work that he completely missed the time he was supposed to meet Mycroft until he appeared in front of him 

"Gregory."

"Mycroft.   Did you see that illusion of the life size envelope?  Brilliant hey."

"We we're supposed to meet up ten minutes ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry.  I got here early and couldn't resist, shall we walk together?"

"No.“  Greg looked at Mycroft,  he looked tense and frustrated. It looked as though he really wanted to somewhere else.

"Mycroft?"

"I asked you here to show you the power and manipulating abilities of illusion, and the impact it can have on a person.  You think you know one thing, and want that one thing but on closer inspection you see it was an illusion all along."

"Get. To. The. Point." Greg stared at him, anger flashing in his eyes.

"You know what I'm trying to say."

"Spell it out."

"You don't want me,  you think you do, you are under the impression that you might even love me, the mystery,  the excitement,  but when you look closely to your feelings you'll realize it is in fact an illusion."

"So the dinners, the kissing,  the sex that you clearly enjoyed as much as I did and I'm the one under illusion?  Maybe it's you."

"Pardon?"

"You're under the illusion or disillusion that you can't feel and that someone can't be in love with you and like you.   This is complete bullshit."

"Language.  Besides I don’t need to explain it to you, I am severing all contact with you, except in connection with Sherlock.  Good day Detective Inspector." Greg was so surprised he didn't even try to stop him from leaving. 

When Mycroft finally got home he was in a very bad mood, the things Greg said was running marathons in his head, every neuron and brain cell hat the unfortunate pleasure of running into those words.  Without having dinner he practically runs up the stairs to his bedroom.  It was late and he should at least try to get some sleep. He was so distracted that he didn't even notice the smell in his room of another man's aftershave.

He didn't even try to fold his jacket up neatly over the hanger or put his kicked off shoes next to one another.  All of this was clear signs that he deeply affected by the day's events.

"Illusion....ha... as if..." he froze and let go of his emotions, his shoulders sagged with the pain and hurt.

"Oh Gregory.  I am such an idiot."

"A little bit yeah." Mycroft jumped back in surprised as Greg stood in the bathroom doorway.  He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded and he looked weary and tired.  He looked at the clothes and shoes lying on the floor.   Mycroft would never allow that.

"What are you doing here?"

Greg walked closer until he stood in front of him.   He ran his hands down Mycroft's chest and felt the man tensed.   He leaned even closer as his hands slipped under the shirt, caressing skin.

"Tell me this isn't an illusion, mine or yours."

"Gregory..." Mycroft rested his hands on Greg's hips, his fingers digging in the flesh through his trousers.

"Tell me this isn't an illusion." He gravely whispered as his hands slipped to his back and lower to his arse. Mycroft breaths became ragged as he held on to Greg.

"Tell me this isn't an illusion." He uttered as he melted his mouth onto Mycroft’s as their tongues curled around each other.

When they finally parted lips Mycroft was holding tight onto Greg his eyes a dark stormy blue and pupils wide.

"You're the clearest and most real thing in my life.  I'm sorry."

"Shall we try again?"

"Yes. Please.  Stay. Stay forever."e

 

 

 


	196. Accentuate

14\. Accentuate

"Do I have too?" Greg asked with a hint of childish whining in his voice.  Next to him John was mirroring Greg's thoughts as they look at the two brothers.  Mycroft and Sherlock for once was on the same page and both Greg and John looked at each other with a knowing smile as they watched the brothers in the exact same posture and stance,  head tilted up eyes staring down at them.   In moments like these you could see they are very alike.

"Yes Gregory you have to, so do you John." Mycroft answered a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Why are you smiling at each other?" Sherlock asked as he stepped closer to them. 

"Just remarkable how alike you two are, did you guys go to one of those refining classes, because your posture is identical." John replied with Greg nodding.

"Yes and that posh I know better look"

Mycroft and Sherlock glanced at each other and immediately tried a different stance which was identical again. 

Greg and John giggled as they saw it, both amused.

"Mycroft deal with your boyfriend." Sherlock grumbled in agitation.  

"Oi. I prefer devilishly handsome partner, or other half." Greg responded while giving Mycroft the most cheeky and seductive smile he could.   Sherlock just rolled his eyes while Mycroft blushed but still picked up the suit and walked towards him.

"You're impossible.  Please try this on."

Greg sighed.

"Fine.  But I'm not your dress up doll."

He made to past them but Mycroft stopped him and whispered over his shoulder.  

"More like my undress doll, as I prefer you without clothes."  This time it was Greg who blushed.  He didn't look back at Mycroft knowing they'll get kicked out of the fine establishment.   So he just took the suit and went into the fitting room. John followed close behind in the cubicle next to his.  The brothers sat down and waited.

Greg was the first to get out, all those years of dressing quickly making an imprint.  He stepped out and Mycroft was speechless.

It was a midnight black suit, especially carved and designed against Greg's measurements. It was designed to accentuate every beautiful features of Greg which happens to be his arse, thighs, shoulder the whole bloody body. 

"Is it okay?" Greg asked tentatively looking from one to the other.   Even Sherlock didn't answer.  

"Um. Mycroft? Sherlock?"

"Gregory.... that.... the...suit..."

It fit like a beautiful tight glove.  Mycroft stopped trying to find a complete sentence shifted in his seat.  The tension was broken when John came out to see three pairs of eyes staring at him.

"Does it look that bad?"

"It looks very good John, I’m trying to get an opinion about my suit but they haven't said a word." Greg replied as he indicated over his shoulder to the two brothers.   John saw them gaping at the two of them and blushed. 

"Yeah man, I think the suits is a perfect fit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah look at them."

Greg looked back at Mycroft who was still staring at him with dark stormy eyes while Sherlock was gaping at John.   Greg turned to John and gave a wink.  He stepped back into the cubicle.

"Oh Myc, can you help with this jacket please?"

"Mycroft was like a cannon ball out his seat and in Greg’s cubicle.   The door closing behind them with a solid thud.  John turned to Sherlock.

"Come here." While he stepped back into his cubicle.

 


	197. Kitchen floor

15 kitchen floor

People often say it's the heart of a house and home, since that is where you'll find most of social gatherings at a home.  Yes the dining room and living room is always filled with people and the noise of life, but the heart: that would be the kitchen.

Somehow it's in the kitchen that always attracts a crowd. 

It's in a kitchen that secrets are told and shared, hands around a mug or glass, the table the resting place for your stressed fingers as they tap.

It's in a kitchen that revelations are made, choices analysed and taken apart like the layers on an onion. 

Kitchens, oh kitchens will always have a special place in a home.

Kitchens are also the place where bad things can happen, trying to chop vegetables, ending up in the A&E.  Domestic fights so many things.

It was in the kitchen that Greg decided to give Sherlock his chance to try himself with some cases.   Yes he did on a previous occasion interrupted his crime scene,  which lead to Sherlock following him home and when he woke up at 2 in the morning  hearing a noise in the kitchen he was unprepared to find the man sitting on the kitchen floor, the kettle boiling and his current case spread out on the floor. 

The best part was that Sherlock didn't blink just said "kettle's boiled, black tea thanks.   Hurry up the crime won't solve itself."

Yes, the kitchen is usually a place where life changing things happen.

 


	198. Unmasked

16 unmasked

Greg never was one for role-playing and putting a mask on for the world.   He is one of those typical what-you-see-is-what-you-get types of people. 

It's not because he can pretend and play along, he has the ability to do that, it’s just he couldn't care to do that. 

Seeing death after death, uncovering the lies and secrets of victims just made him realised there's no point.   Everything is revealed in the end.  All became one unmasked event where you're life becomes a slither of cells underneath a microscope.

Since Sherlock became a prominent figure the revealing of secrets and lies is faster and a lot more brutal than normal.

Mycroft once said it was this characteristic of him refusing to pretend that attracted him the most.   He never experienced it in the professional workplace and it was a very good and enlightening surprise.

 


	199. Soft

17\. Soft

Mycroft just couldn't get home fast enough; he was wrung out and tired. After two weeks of travelling and sleeping in a different bed each night he wanted his own bed. His bed, with its super soft linens and goose feathered duvets and fluffy pillows... oh yes. He wanted to go home. 

They landed, finally, at six in the morning, considering that he left the visiting country also late morning and with the time difference he lost a good night's sleep. 

Mycroft gave a wistful smile, Gregory would appreciate the fact that he basically travelled back in time, he is quite fond of Doctor Who. Speaking of which he quickly texted Greg to let him know he is safe and sound back home and on his way home. 

He was just about to get out of the car when he got a text back. 

"About bloody time. Missed you like crazy. Will try to leave early. Don't work. Go to sleep. See you tonight. GL."

"Not to worry, the only work I'm contemplating doing is taking my bags up and getting undressed and crawl into bed. MH"

When he finally woke up it was to the unmistakable feeling of discomfort. He looked at his watch, only slept about three hours. Just the tip of the iceberg. Glancing around the room he noticed Greg's work clothes in the laundry basket and shoes in the corner. This means Greg is home and changed into comfortable clothes. He tried to get comfortable but couldn’t. The pillows were all wrong, the duvet didn't flow right over his body and the mattress felt cold. He counted to ten and to get his emotions under control. He quickly put on his robe and went to look for Greg. 

Greg was on the porch, sipping an ice cold beer with a book in his hands. He was stretched out on the porch swing one foot hanging off. The swing moved silently in a very hypnotic way while the sun was basking him in its rays.

"Gregory." Greg put the book down.

"Hi. Sleep well?"

"Not really. I need that." Mycroft answered as he walked closer pointing at Greg. Greg frowned. 

"Need what?"

"That." He indicated again to Greg's chest and Greg gave a very gleeful smile.

"Real Egyptian Cotton, goose feathered duvet and fluffy pillows and the only thing you need to sleep well is my chest?"

"It would appear so."

"Come on then Love." Greg shifted back against the back of the daybed/Swing and Mycroft climbed on the swing his body automatically filling the space against Greg. Greg started to swing very slowly while holding Mycroft close.

"Gregory?"

"Hmm"

"Are you trying to rock me to sleep?"

"Yes. Sleep well Love."

"Hmmm." Mycroft managed to get out; talking was too much of an effort. Greg was right the only place he could really sleep and sleep well was in his arms, his chest his pillow. So strong, manly, safe and right now oh so soft."


	200. Taking care

18\. Taking care

As soon as Mycroft climbed out of the car, the loud rumble of an engine could be heard.   He closed his eyes and gave a sigh.  After several months of dating Mycroft finally convinced Greg that it was time they move in together.  Greg agreed on the condition that they both sell their respective homes and buy a house together.   Greg wanted a yard where he can have friends over and have a bbq and most importantly a place for his bike and car.  After much debate it was the brown puppy look and a promise of sex under the stars that convinced Mycroft it was a good idea. 

Two months later and here they are.   Their own little home, well when Mycroft means little it's more of a endearing term than actual description. 

After another roar rumbled through the air he decides to skip the route through the house to the back and just followed the stone path to the back.  

As he turned around the corner he was very happy that their backyard was private.   Greg was working on the bike and the only clothes he was wearing was ripped and faded blue jeans that was quite tight over the back and a black T shirt with the arms ripped out.  His phone was playing some type of rock song and Greg was singing along.  

He walked closer until his shadow cast over Greg.   Surprised he turned towards Mycroft.

"Myc!  Hi Love, just taking care of the girl.  She needed an oil change.  How was your day?"

"It was filled with paperwork and meetings, otherwise quite uneventful.   I must ask, are you almost finished?"

"Yeah just about, just have to pack up and then I'm sorted. Just listen to this beautiful girl." He stood up and revved the engine again, Mycroft was instead staring at the tight shirt across Greg's torso and the few oil streaks across his face.   His eyes were sparkling and his smile from ear to ear as he patted the bike.

"Sounds like a rumbling lion, can I assist you in cleaning?"

"What?"

"Gregory.   Can we please go inside so I can personally clean those oil stains off your face?"

"Oh... yeah.... definitely."  Greg switched the bike off and gave her a last pat.

"Gotta go girl, the grown-ups gotta talk."

"We're not going to talk Gregory."

"I know, but my baby's too young to understand."

 


	201. Collected

19\. Collected

The clock was the loudest sound in the office.  The rhythmic tick-tick the only reminder that time is passing.  Mycroft glanced at the clock units slowly moving from one minute to the next.  

Gregory was late.

It was not a big problem usually as work often keeps him busy, however this was an important meeting.  

He glanced at the clock and then at the door.   He could hear the door opening. 

"Please let it be Gregory." He mentally added as he turned to the door.  

Oh no. It was Henry, opening the door for Her.  Gregory should've been here, what is he going to say?

'Be calm; be collected, calm and collected.' He can think of something.   That was until he heard loud laughter, a familiar laugh, outside the door, where Henry was and Her. He turned to the door and nearly doubled over.   He couldn't hide the surprise even if he wanted to.

There Greg was, with Her on his arm, and they were sharing some kind of joke.   Mycroft could only stare as they walked in, and then Greg looked at him, his fears and anxiety melted like wax in the sun. 

"Hi My,  was ten minutes early but the security kept me a bit longer and luckily this lovely lady saved me."

"Oh Greg dear, you are too kind." She jested back and sat down, Henry walked around and gave Mycroft a small tap on his shoulder, he leaned in.

"You're concern was unnecessary." Mycroft could only nod as he sat down next to Greg who immediately grabbed his hand.

"I take it no introductions are needed?"

"No, it all worked out.   Thank you again for inviting me."

"It was nothing dear; I just had to meet the man who put that spark of life in Mycroft's eye.  But please tell me how you two met; I understand the younger Holmes had a part to play?"

Mycroft answered as Greg poured their tea.

"Yes, well your Majesty..."


	202. Butterfly wings

20\. Butterfly wings

"Japan?" Greg repeated as he clutched the phone tighter. 

"Yes. It will only be for 4 days." Mycroft’s voice were tight over the line, he sounded exhausted and really not in the mood for more time away for home.

"But My, I haven't seen you in 3 weeks and not to sound like a nagging wife, but I do miss you."  Greg knew he wasn’t making things easier, but he was frustrated.  At least he admitted to sound like a nagging wife. Mycroft gave a dry laugh.

"You will never sound like a nagging wife, and to be honest I quite enjoy someone worrying about me."  He added in a soft voice.

"Of course I worry, it’s not like I have access to multiple CCTV cameras or a multitude of minions to look after you."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about,  but if I did,  I'll play along and say I have access and they get paid very well to ensure my safety."

"They better.   Anyway, I’ll miss you and you better make it up to me."

"I promise.  you know I don’t really want to go."  Mycroft couldn’t hide the hint of sadness from his voice

"I know but duty calls.  Just tell the world that after this little trip you are banned from leaving London for at least a month."

"By whose authority?"

"Mine.  I'll tie you to your bed if i must."

"That is misusing your police cuffs."

"Won’t use cuffs, you got a whole wardrobe of ties."

"Gregory! Those are real silk."  Mycroft tried to sound affronted but the smile was evident.

"Desperate times.... but seriously My, please take care and come back okay?"

"I promise."

"While you’re there, take time and go to one of those Japanese gardens."

"Why?" Greg ignored him and continued.

"While there, hold out your hand for the butterflies."

"Butterflies? Gregory are you okay?"

"According to myths and legends, if you whisper love notes to a butterfly, it will travel the world to your true love and deliver the message."

"Love notes on butterfly wings."

"If it goes my way, you will be stalked by thousands of butterflies."

 


	203. Lament

21\. Lament

 

Greg was nursing his fourth beer for the night; he was dressed in his faded jeans and an old police t shirt.  Leaning back against a tree in his back garden the sun was making its final appearance before disappearing behind the curtain of night.

He was becoming emotional, he knew it, and it’s all the beers.  thank goodness he is alone for the night, no plans, no interruptions nothing, on top of that tomorrow is his day off, so he could finish the whole six-pack and if he still wants more, there is an emergency reserve pack in the back of the pantry.

With a deep sight he leaned his head back against the bark.  He should’ve known it won’t last, that things never really worked out much for the better when he is concerned.

Failed marriage under his belt, and then just when he picked himself up and thought, his relationship with Mycroft would be it.  The last one, the one till the day he died.

Well, in all honesty it would be, even though they won’t be together until he dies, because even though the relationship might - no will - fail, he won’t ever open himself up like this again.  It’s not really worth the pain, and he is over fifty so he's good to go on the little single train there.

"Why are you drinking yourself into some kind of stupor?"  Greg didn’t even react to Sherlock as he stood half a step behind him.  Most revealing about his mental state.

"What are you doing here?'

"You didn’t answer your phone."

"Didn’t hear it."

"It’s inside."

"That explains it."

"What’s the matter?" Sherlock stepped around as to stand in front of Greg.  Greg didn’t even react; he just took another swallow of the beer, emptying it and places it next to him. As he reach out to pick up his fifth Sherlock grabbed it out of his hand. Greg just shrugged and pick up the last one.

"Help yourself.  You know love and lament and lonely all starts with an 'l' and we all know what your Holmes’s say about coincidences right."

"What are you on about?"

"Your little suicide mission, you messed up your brother's plan with Magnussen and killed him, no instead of jail you’re going on a suicide mission, John doesn’t know, because let’s all pretend you’re going to be fine, for the sake of the Doctor.  Your brother is not going to survive or get passed your death, which means my relationship with him will die a long - another 'l'- and agonizing painful death.  He told me in a lot of fancy words that caring and emotions and so forth is not for him, and in the long run, might just cause a hindrance he is going to eliminate.  So bye bye relationship.  So to answer your question Sherlock, thanks to you, I get to celebrate your loss - one more 'l' - all over again, and lament for you and the best relationship I’ve ever had.  Mycroft and I by the way. The only question now is, are you going to drink with me or leave so I can drink alone?"  It was quiet when Sherlock just dropped the can of beer and left hearing Greg's parting shot.

"Leave; another l, run away Sherlock, you Holmes do it so well."

 


	204. Desire

22\. Desire

 

Mycroft put the phone down on the table and rested his head in his hands.  To the outsider it would look as if he had a thousand worries on his shoulders and even though he does, it does not compare to the one he is currently facing: Gregory Lestrade.

 

Ever since he knew the man, he was different an enigma that he couldn’t figure out, just when he is under the impression he knows the man, he does something else.  Greg is predictable in his unpredictability.

 

Since the man's divorce he took one year of celibacy (at least he thinks so, but his surveillance is hardly ever wrong) and took the time to just focus on his work, his friends and Sherlock. And him.

Now that he thinks back, he should’ve realised it was all a very clever, very genius plan to build enough trust and confidence for Mycroft to let his guard down, and become friends with him. 

Little by little Greg broke his walls down, with persistence, perseverance and trust.

Now finally he asked Mycroft out, for dinner, yes they’ve had several dinners in the past, but Greg made it clear that this would be different.  he wants them to pursue a relationship.

 

So many scenarios ran through his head, why on earth would someone like Greg be interested in someone like him.  He wants to say yes, so badly.  but so many what ifs and rejection voices in his head is telling him to run. 

After several minutes he picked up the phone and dialled.

"Lestrade?"

"Why?"

“Why what?'

"Why do you want to go out with me, why are you interested in me?" 

"I’ll tell you in person." with that Greg hang up.  Mycroft stared at the phone until his door opened and Greg stepped in.

"There’s a quote by Rumi: ' I once had a thousand desires, but in my one desire to know you, all else melted away.' Mycroft, since the day i met you, you interwoven yourself into every thought process and neuron in my head, when you look at me i feel my skin sizzle and all my desires contain you, I desire to see your face as you walk in the park, to see the raindrops in your hair as it rains.  I desire to know what makes you tick, your favourite book, music, your dreams and desires, and all of those are a drop in the ocean compared to the simple desire of knowing you."

 


	205. Intuitive

23\. Intuitive

Mycroft should’ve known Greg would realise what is going on, after all he is the most intuitive person he has ever met.  Whereas other people learned to read people or tap into that special sense to know what is going on, to Greg it comes naturally.

On top of that he doesn’t even try to hide it, he use just enough not to cause suspicion, he use just enough to use it to his advantage.  Sherlock knows it too, but pretend he doesn’t see it.  It’s this ability that makes Sherlock so fond of working with Greg. 

“Gregory?” he called out towards the house, it was quiet and although nearly 10 there it was quite dark with soft lights, there was just the faintest guitar melody playing in the background.  Mycroft stepped closer the stairs that lead up.

There was a note:

“The best pathways My, is the ones no one else is willing to take.  Come up.”

 

Feeling as though a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders he quickly left his coat and umbrella and climbed up.

 

The lights followed into their room and he stood frozen.  All over were small tea light candles, no electric lights.  He walked into the bathroom and there was the most beautiful sight.  A bath full filled with bubbles some essential oils were illuminating the air with the most calming atmosphere.  And on the toilet seat was Greg, dressed in his pyjamas, playing his guitar.  He smiled at Mycroft.

“Something felt off and I just knew your day was horrible, you don’t have to talk to me, if you don’t want to, but I do want you to take a long relaxing bath, and just wash away the bad things and I’ll play and serenade you.  In the corner is your favourite wine, when your finished ill hold you close and let you sleep tight in my arms.

Mycroft couldn’t stop the emotions even if he tried, no one has ever done something for like this, and Greg is the most beautiful intuitive and loving man he has ever met. 

 


	206. Eccentric

24\. Eccentric

Greg shifted in bed and then removing the blankets he stretch his body as much as possible.  As he stretched he gave a long moan which in turn woke up his companion.

"Gregory do you have to temp me so early in the morning?"

"Hmm?"

"The stretching, the noises, I’m just a man you know?"

"Yes, my man. Come on get up we have a lot to do today."

"How about we just stay in bed?"

"No."

"We do get so little time to be together and now you want to spoil it with being around people?" Mycroft asked as he sat up straight and made his way to the bathroom.

Greg just smiled at his retreating form and gave a wolf whistle which made Mycroft blushed furiously.   Greg smiled even wider.

"Only for the morning Love, we’ve been talking for a while now about a hot tub and this is the only chance we're getting for a while."

"But why do we have to go in store?  Why can't we order online?"

"Because it would be fun, we can see the range they have, pick out a colour for the room and the furniture to go with it,  all under one roof. The best way to see if we will fit comfortable together in it is if we can actually see it for ourselves."

"You don't suggest we climb into one in the store?" Mycroft looked shocked for a moment but Greg smirked.

"Why not?  See if it will cater to all our needs?"

"Gregory."

"Don't worry, we won't do anything public shaming, I’m all for being eccentric but I think that sexy arse of ours is for my eyes only.  Might get jealous."

 


	207. Chiffon

25\. Chiffon

Mycroft couldn't sleep, he had a very important meeting in the morning and prepared until midnight. There were a lot of lives at stake, not just literally, but for the future.  The decision tomorrow could mean the difference between an education for children or not.

He sighed as he looked around his room, the bed is extremely comfortable and inviting, yet he knew sleep wouldn't come quickly.   Deciding that it might be better after a long shower he stood up.  

His phone vibrated to let him know there was a message.

"Go shower and put on the most comfortable clothes, even if it meant nothing and a robe, I'm on my way, be there in 20 minutes. Greg"

With a small smile he did as he was told and took a long and hot shower.

By the time he was finished he had five minutes before Greg would arrived.   Putting on his most comfortable pyjamas as instructed he made his way downstairs pulling the robe over his pyjamas.

He was just tying the robe's belt when the knock came. 

"Gregory, well this is a surprise." Mycroft answered as he opened the door.   Greg was smiling and immediately handed him a take away bag as he put down his helmet and removed his shoes at the entrance.

"Hi, I know you were struggling to sleep as I have no doubt that the meeting tomorrow is on your mind so I've decided to intervene.   Go to your dining room and put on some music, and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be along shortly."

Mycroft just stared at Greg, who gave him another smile and started to push him to the living room.

"Come on Love, just let me take care of you."

"Fine." Leaving Greg to go into the kitchen he went to the stereo and put on some relaxing music, after the soft sounds filled the room he sat down on the sofa.  Five minutes later Greg came in with a tray; there was two steaming mugs with two small plates.  He held out the tray to Mycroft to take his share and saw it was tea and cake.

"A tea party at one in the morning Gregory?"

"You never need a reason to have cake, or tea. Enjoy."

"Gregory...."

"If you're going to say one thing about Voldemort I'm giving you two slices."

"Voldemort?"

"Diet, same thing, we don't mention it in this house.  Now eat and be merry."

"Yes Gregory." They ate in a comfortable silence.

"This is one of the best cakes I've eaten." Mycroft said as he finished his piece with the last sip of tea and lay back on the coach, relaxed and a little bit sleepy. Greg finished his piece and followed Mycroft to relax against the sofa.

"It's chocolate Hokkaido chiffon cake."

It was quiet for a while, each with its own thoughts.  Mycroft looked at Greg, the man who always makes him feel better.

"Thank you.  For this."

"You're welcome, besides there's more to this little tea party."

"Is that so?"

"You're going to sleep.  I can see the shower and tea and cake relaxed you enough so come on, get comfortable here in my arms, lap whatever you want and get some sleep."

 


	208. Jewelled

26\. Jewelled

Sherlock and Mycroft were speechless.   They would stare at each other and then back to their mother.   She was looking extremely pleased with herself and happy.   Their dad was comfortably drinking his tea as he looked at his wife with a fond look.

"I like it."

"Mummy, it’s atrocious." Sherlock replied as he looked at it against with revulsion.   Mycroft tried a more diplomatic approach.

"Mummy, I’m sure it fitted right in with the environment, but are you sure about wearing it here, maybe in your home?"

"No. I like it, it's extremely comfortable and with this weather and rain, my feet will be warm and dry."

"We got Wellies here in England." Sherlock tried again, but no avail.

Mycroft sighed.

"Mummy it's Cowboy boots and it's jewelled."

"I know, they were on special, and the like jewel stones go all the way back in this arch."

Before either could respond the door opened and Greg stepped in, he looked around the room and when his eyes fell on Mycroft's parents he gave a huge smile and walked straight to Mummy and enveloped her in a big hug.

"Mummy! Oh it's so good to see you back, when did you land?"

"Greg dear.  Aaah you give the best hugs, we landed about an hour ago, and Mikey fetch us at the airport and brought us here.  Hope you don't mind, but Mycroft invited us to stay the weekend?"

Greg was sure he couldn't smile brighter.

"He did?  That's wonderful?  We can catch up, if there are not too many cases at the moment.   Did you enjoy the Wild West?"

"We had a great time; I even got these nice jewelled cowboy boots that both my sons hate." As she spoke Greg looked down at her shoes. Giving her a wink and cheeky smile he answered.

"Well you know what they say, haters hate what they can't have, and I’m sure their just jealous."

He could hear Sherlock spluttering some kind of retort and Mycroft glared.

"Gregory, I think we should discuss this relationship and its future." He sounded serious but there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes.

Greg just walks to him.  His eyes bored into Mycroft's.

"That so? But you always say I look good in leather boots, and here I thought I should get me a pair with a matching cowboy hat."

Busted.   Greg could see Mycroft was struggling to respond to that so he turned to Sherlock.

"Here are the files you've wanted; I’ll see you all a bit later.  With one last cheeky glance he left them.

 


	209. Restive

27\. Restive

This is indeed a bad situation if there ever was one.  Mycroft came to on Sherlock as usual; however they did not count on the killer coming back and bringing a friend to help him dispose of the body.

Now they are being held at gunpoint with several other officers.

There really isn't anyway this is going to end well for the murderer, the problem is even if it's two to about ten, the fact that they are armed does leave room for several injuries. 

Greg is sure when all is done, it would be a funny story how the four of them couldn't decide who to cover, Greg instincts immediately put him in the front line, to protect Mycroft and Sherlock, even John, after all he is the officer in charge. Mycroft was torn between standing in front of Greg or Sherlock and ended up being one step behind Greg and in front of Sherlock. Sherlock was trying to decide between Mycroft and John, but he was too far from either.  John was armed, but there was no way he was going to say that out loud as everyone including Sherlock was without protection.

The murderer was getting restless and the friend was fidgety. 

Greg was trying to talk to him while slowly but surely stepping closer, Mycroft followed him and Sherlock was moving behind the second gunmen. 

"Listen, you are surrounded; there is no way that this can end well for you."

"Stop being so resilient!"

The man yelled and Mycroft automatically corrected him.

"Restive." The man flashed in anger and stepped closer to shoot him when Sherlock and Greg moved as one and take out both gunmen.  Sherlock called the man an idiot as he head-butted him while Greg gave him two solid punches knocking him out and ending with the gun in his hand.

Greg turned to Mycroft.

"Restive?”

"The man's an idiot, trying to control us and having extremely bad language skills."

 


	210. Here and now

28\. Here and now

If there is one thing that Greg learned from Sherlock's little hiatus, is that moments are for a fleeting moment.  He may have had the gift of knowing Sherlock for about seven years, but compared to the pain and grief of missing him and knowing him to be dead was too much in comparison. 

Sherlock was in the prime of his life, when he died, the list of cases he could've solved is limitless.  The experiments endless, the laughter of his shenanigans to him and his colleagues still stuck a chord in his heart.

He was never an overly emotional or sentimental man, romantic yes, the rest not so much.  This is exactly why since he and Mycroft started a relationship he went out of his way to let the man know where they stand. He would tell Mycroft every morning and every evening that he loves him.  He would cook for them whenever he gets the chance. If his route takes him past a park or garden he would pick a flower or leave or a little pebble and give it to his him.  Most often Anthea would meet him on the way to his office and take the flower or pebble to surprise Mycroft.  

Mycroft understood, he understood that his job and Greg's job is dangerous and that everyday could be their last.   He would send Greg a coffee every morning instead of an 'i love you' but Greg know he is saying that.  When Greg was on his way home Mycroft would make sure the traffic flowed as smooth as possible.

The thing is both are so different, yet the same, they both know the importance of a good relationship and how you can't take anything for granted, they both now the importance of memories, but more importantly the significance of the here and now.

 


	211. Exploding

29\. Exploding

The call came just after seven; Mycroft was on his way home when his phone went haywire with calls and messages from John and Anthea.   They were at a crime scene, but no one was able to pick up the smell of leaking gas.

The whimpering of the agitated dog that kept running to the kitchen and back out was the one to give it away.   No one bothered with the dog, except Sherlock who only after spend time deducing and in his thought processes yelled 'shut up' and the dog responding with a loud bark, made him realised, something was amiss.  He followed the dog to the kitchen and discovered the open valve. 

He warned every one, he yelled it out and was able to get everybody safely out with the necessary people on its way. 

They were standing outside when John looked around.

"Where's Greg?"

Sherlock widen his eyes, as he looked around.

"Lestrade!"

He quickly opened his phone and dialled. He turned to John

"Call Mycroft." Greg answered on the second ring.

"Sherlock?  Came out here to the back, there’s something you should see."

"Get out, get far away!" Sherlock demanded.

"Sherlock?  What's the matter?"

"There's a gas leak get as far away as you can."

"What? Did you get everyone out?  Get Sally to call reinforcements."

"I did!  We're all a safe distance away, where exactly is you?"

"Back, near the fountain."

"Get further, actually I'm coming around, the house is one the corner, get to the street, I'll help you over the wall."

"Right.” Sherlock was halfway when, he would deny it the rest of his life, as he felt the air stilled before the exploding force sent him halfway across the street.

When he finally came too there was a cacophony of colours, sounds, disruption and chaos.

He tried to get up and stumbled when two pair of arms grabbed each side and helped him up.  It was John and Mycroft.

Mycroft looked dishevelled without his coat and umbrella, John had a few dirty streaks across his face.

"Where's Gregory Sherlock?" Mycroft asked with a shiver in his voice.

"Told him to come to the back, will help him over the wall." Mycroft let go and run towards the wall.  Trying to find a weak spot he found one and ripped one of the wooden panes off.  This allowed him to look inside.

"Gregory!" He yelled and tried to find his partner.

Swearing he pulled back and tried to rip the second panel when John helped. They managed to remove four panes which were enough for Mycroft to crawl through and ran towards the fountain.  Ignoring the protest of John and Sherlock, he kept running.   And froze.   There under the edge of the fountain wall was Gregory, curled up and wet. The explosion cracked the cement and sprayed water all over him which was fortunate as it prevented the little spots of flames and fire reaching him.

"Gregory?" He walked closer and crouched down.   His hand shaking as he tried to find a pulse.  Finding one he yelled to John.

"Get paramedics, he's alive!" John followed Mycroft and Sherlock after he called for help, the need to access the injuries himself.

Together they slowly turned him around.  Besides from a few scratches and bruises he looked good, however the problem was the two streams of blood running down his face, the explosion burst his eardrums.

Mycroft remove his jacket and made a pillow for his head, while he tried to wipe the blood.  Groaning Greg opened his, very confused and disorientated.   Mycroft was holding his hands and locked eyes with him.   The last he remembers before he lost consciousness was the brightness in Mycroft's eyes.


	212. Yield

30\. Yield

Mycroft and Greg were deep in concentration as they studied the papers in front of them.   Mycroft had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, Greg shirt was untucked and his hair messy from every time he ran his hands through it.

"What about over here?" He in indicated with his arm towards the corner.

"Too far from the house, here at the back corner would work, the pathway only expanding about five meters and it's close to get."

"Yeah, hear ya, plus its closer for your cameras."

"Hmm, the cameras will be everywhere, that spot in the corner wouldn't have been lens free."

"So no part of this will have a blind spot?”

"No. You are mine and I'm not letting any part of you disappear from sight."

"You know, if I didn't know you,  I would've thought that a bit stalkerish and creepy."

"You did, before we got together and you still think it's creepy and stalkerish."

"Yes, but now I love you and adore you, besides I keep thinking how I can snog you and everyone will know you're mine.  Talking of which, I didn't like that new intern looking at you the way he did. Made me want to punch him."

Mycroft looked from the papers to Greg.

"How did he look at me? I did a background check, it all was fine, but if you picked something up I'll. ..."

"Not like that, relax. I meant the other way."

"Other way?"

"Yes like he can't keep his hands or lustful thoughts from you,  practically drooling,  don't get me wrong,  you’re incredibly hot, but I'm the only one who can look at you like that,  in fact that should be a law. Implement it won't you? "

"Just like that? Shall I go and tell the Prime minister that every man who dares to look at me wrong shall be put in jail, except Gregory?"

"Yes. Oh you forgot women too."

"Gregory."

"It makes me insanely jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah, what if one day you decide I'm too hold and this young fresh man who clearly would do anything for you might be a better option?"

Mycroft stepped closer.

"I'm yours, always and always. They can look all they want, but it's you Gregory, it’s always you, always will be.   Besides I didn't even notice the way he look at me, as long as he can do the job I'm paying him for." He stretched his hands out towards the papers.

"This should be more than enough to convince you."

"Yeah, can't believe you're building a garage for my bike in your backyard, plus rearranging your entire garden to fit around it."

"Plus a pergola where we can spend some time and stargaze. Trust me on this, we are in for the long haul."

"I will yield to your great mind and loving heart.  Plus I need to teach you how to roast marshmallows and dip in melted chocolate."

"Melted chocolate and you sounds divine."

"That has a double meaning you know?"

"Really?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"Can you think of a few?"

"Oh definitely."

"Well I will yield to your expertise."

 


	213. Preserve

31\. Preserve 

Greg stood frozen to the spot.   He couldn't decide whether he wants to cry, scream or go on a homicidal murder streak and punch the lights out of some people.  

That was the moment his legs gave in and he sat down. The toilet lid may not have been the most comfortable seat, but it would have to do. 

He didn't mean to eavesdrop, really, he came to the bathroom and when he heard the voices he quickly hide away in a stall like some school kid.  He just wanted a moment to collect his thoughts in silence and without people. 

Mycroft invited him to a function and he can in all honesty say, he was the most common and uneducated person there.

"The cheapest too" He mentally added.  Even the waiters were more educated and richer than he was.

He love Mycroft, but tonight is a clear indication that they will never be on the same page.  World wise.  The only reason they’ve met is because of Sherlock.  If it wasn't for him, their circles and paths would never have crossed.   There’s no way Mycroft would've given him the time of day.

His mind kept replaying the conversation.

"Suit, obviously a gift, probably didn't even know you get materials like that, after all it's not pedestrian and commercially made for the masses."

"Sex must be good for Mycroft to keep him."

In all his life he had never felt so low, so worthless, and this is the people he tries to protect.   What do they know about what goes on in real life, in the things that goes bump in the night, besides shagging?

The fact is, he knows this deep down and it has never bothered him before until now.  Until they quite literally voiced it out loud.  The problem is that his thoughts and concerns are for Mycroft.   His job is his life, he made sacrifices to get where he is, and no matter how much he complains he enjoys it. 

So there is only one thing to do, when all is said and done.   If he has any value left and wants to preserve Mycroft's reputation and character, he would leave. 

Taking a deep breath he opened the door and came face to face with Mycroft. 

The pain and resignation must have shown on his face as Mycroft pushed him back and followed him as he closed the door behind him.  As the door locked he hugged Greg as tight as he could.  His arms wrapped tightly and his resting on his shoulder.  Greg was stunned but quickly hugged him back. 

"Please." Mycroft mumbled as his fingers clawed against Greg's back.   It was as if he was trying to crawl inside him.

"My?”

"Please.  They are wrong.  They are wrong.  Please.  Stay. Please Gregory."

"You heard that?"

Mycroft nodded as he slightly lightens his grip.

"You were taking too long so I came looking for you, they were talking as they left and I knew.  They won't get away, I’ve ensured that."

"They were still right, you’re too important to have baggage like me to bring you down." Mycroft let him go and grabbed the sides of his face.

"They have no idea what I do Gregory, none.   They also have no idea how important you are to me and how much I need you in my life.  You, you make me believe that what I do can be good, you give me a reason to keep fighting.  The hell with them Gregory,  I've known you for many years and you've known them for five minutes,  don't throw all these years away for five minutes."

"I need to preserve your reputation, your job is important."

"And it will be important tomorrow with you; they have no influence about me or my abilities. If you want to preserve something, preserve us."

Greg was close to tears so he just nodded and held on to Mycroft.  

"Can we go home now?"

"Yes.  Let's go home, our home."

"Our home."

 


	214. Modest

1\. Modest

Greg wasn't surprised the first time he step foot in Mycroft's house,  he wasn't even overwhelmed by the size of it, nor the decorations, in fact it fitted his image of Mycroft down to a 't'. Mycroft's house was modest compared to the rest in the neighbourhood but Greg is under the impression he did it on purpose after all a man who practically runs the government behind the curtains are most certainly not going to draw attention to himself.

The best part was that he completely surprised Mycroft, by not reacting the way he thought Greg would.   Greg looked around the place, his eyes falling on the table containing several newspapers and a ceramics bowl for the keys.  It was minimal design but maximum effect.  The key into unlocking Mycroft and subsequently his home is too looking closer, beyond the mask.  Which is why he knows the key bowl and newspapers was more than it seems.  The same with the portraits and colours  Subtle browns and blue to create an open and natural effect.   The place spoke of class and quality but in such a way that money wasn’t the screaming proof.

Mycroft gave a small frown when he noticed Greg's expression.

"Gregory?"

"Finely crafted and designed for maximum effect, the house is like you, an enigma to be discovered and revealed one step at a time."

Mycroft was astounded, no one has ever got it right in the first place, his face slowly dropping the mask and revealing the real Mycroft.  Greg saw the moment it happened, he saw the moment Mycroft's finally relaxed and opened up for him and the only thing he could do was standing there with a foolish and goofy smile on his face, but that was okay because Mycroft mirrored his goofy and foolish smile and they just stood there in the most intimate and personal atmosphere. 

 


	215. Olivine

2\. Olivine

Mycroft woke up with a smile on his face.  He spent the night at Greg's place and he loved it.   Everything around him was a reminder of Greg.   That it was real and not a dream.   The space next to him was empty and he could smell the coffee and the tea mixing through the air.   A smell he never thought he would come to love as much as he does in that very moment.  

With a stretch he quickly climbed out of the bed and wrapped Greg's robe around him.  Greg hardly ever wears is, as he prefer walking barefoot and in his boxers and t shirt.   Mycroft doesn't complain. 

He followed the smell into the living room where Greg was just putting it down on the table with their breakfast.

"Good morning Gregory."

"Morning Love sleep well?"  He answered as he crossed the space to kiss Mycroft.

"I did thank you."  He answered as he let Greg go to sit down. 

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence each in their own thoughts.  When they finished he followed Greg to place his plate and mug into the sink, his eyes fell on the open newspaper.   Greg was doing the crossword puzzle as he made breakfast.   Basically all the answers were filled in. 

"Oh Love...” Greg said behind him, he saw Mycroft picking up the paper and scanning the answers.

"... I struggled this morning with 5 down.  Can only think of emerald and aventurine but I know it's not right, do you know? "

Mycroft looked at the question: 'Mineralogy   any   of   a   group   of   magnesium iron   silicates , ( Mg , Fe )   2   SiO   4  ,   occurring   in olive - green   to   gray - green   masses   as   an important   constituent   of   basic   igneous rocks Also called   chrysolit'

Seven letters? "

"Yup.  Was thinking of olive, but that is only 5 letters."

"You are right, olive is right but the term is olivine."

"Olivine?  Sounds like some kind of paint or something.  Fill it in won't you? "

Mycroft quickly scribbled the letters in, his neat and flowy letters mixed-up with Greg's rough edgy writing.   He smiled as a quick sentimental stab hits his heart at that.  He turned back to Greg.

"You know a bit about gemstones don't you, what’s your birth stone?"

"The pearl."

"Integrity, wisdom, purity, wealth and fidelity.  Also mystery, status and mystery.   Do you know how pearls are made?"

"Yes.  It's originally a grain of sand in an oyster.  An irritation that it covers with nacre to ease the irritation and even becoming a round pearl."

"That's right, how do you know all these things? "

"I read a lot, and as the pearl say, wisdom.... I'm a clever bloke."  Greg joked as he pulled Mycroft close.  Do you know your birth stone?"

"Ruby."

"Strength, devotion, health, wisdom, integrity and oh so many others, believed to be self-luminous and would darken in colour to warn the wearer of oncoming trouble."

"Don't think that's true, because my ruby is only being lit by a pearl."

 


	216. Atmospheric

3\. Atmospheric

Mycroft blinked as he tried to process the information Greg just gave him.  Or more accurately the words Greg just spoke.

"Gregory my dearest could you please repeat that?"

"What?"

"What you just said."

"Oh, if solipsism is real I'm super awesome."

"Solipsism?"  Mycroft asked pronouncing the word like some kind of strange cheese or something.

"Yeah, the philosophical idea or belief that only one's own mind is real or exists, everything else is created by your mind or imagination."

"I know what it means; I’m trying to understand how you came to thinking like that or what brought this on?"

"I arrested a women today who believes in it and said that she is not scared of being arrested or going to jail, because she created us and her mind will set her free."

"Was she on drugs?”

"Clean as a brand new note.  She just saw us as a creation of her mind and nothing we can say will convince her otherwise."

"And if that belief is true, you are amazing?"

"That's correct."

"May I ask why?" Greg stood up and walked closer to Mycroft, pushing the chair back he leaned across Mycroft's desk, his legs on either side then he leaned forward. 

"Because I have to be to imagine someone so breathtakingly handsome and amazingly smart and such a gentle man like you someone who managed to shake my atmospheric world into brand new layers of air."

Mycroft couldn't reply,  he couldn't even think of something to say to that, the only thing he could do,  which he did was to grab Greg and held on to him as if his life depends on it.  When he finally loosened his grip he stared in Greg’s eyes.

"If solipsism where real, and the kind of man I am, and the work I do, I’m redeeming myself with you."

“No see here Love, here I am trying to think of a thousand words to say what my mind thinks of you, and here you go, one sentence and I’m al gooey for you.”

“My dearest, you don’t need thousands of words, your name is more than sufficient.”

 

 


	217. Home

4\. Home

It was their scheduled date night.   It may seem a bit anti-climactic and unromantic that they have to schedule a specific time in their calendars to have a night together, but considering both are workaholics, one a homicide detective, the other the British Government, one can understand the desire to have a moment which is theirs and theirs alone. 

On this night they don't go out, they don't dress up either.   This night, is for them, them alone to do as they seem fit. They had a pampering night, one time they stayed in bed the whole night just talking and catching up.   There was the picnic in the garden, movie night, bake night (Mummy was impressed with the homemade cookies made by her two boys.   Even Sherlock ate.) There was the stargazing on a blanket night, the dancing in the garden night, tonight its dinner by candlelight.   More precisely, fairy lights.  Greg was first to arrive and he decorated the backyard; he asked around the Yard for old broken umbrellas and used that as basic.   Stripped of their material he arranges the string of lights around the wires and then with the handle hang it from the trees, easy and affordable. 

Next was the table placed underneath the lights with dinner.   He made a salad and there was a wok to make stir fry and the wine was in the ice bucket.  The table was set and the only thing missing was Mycroft, who was upstairs quickly putting on something more homely and relaxed.  Greg was already dressed in his faded jeans and his favourite band shirt.   Mycroft joined him shortly after, wearing an indigo denim short cut above the knee and a lime green button down.  Greg chose it and always has trouble keeping his hands of Mycroft. 

As he walked out Greg was staring, after all this time Mycroft still has trouble believing he can do that to a man. 

"Hello gorgeous."

"Gregory." Mycroft smiled as he looked at the table and then up at the fairy lights already illuminating the table in soft light, the sunset casting it's last rays over the table setting. 

"Are the lights hanging from umbrellas?"

"Yes. Found some old ones and it's perfect.   Just twirl around the wires and then hang it up, when done just take the handle."

"That's very clever."

"I know, besides you're the umbrella man, thought it would appeal to you."

"I can hardly walk with a fairy light umbrella around."

Greg just laughed and gave Mycroft a kiss.

"Some wine Love?"

"I'll pour, you cook."

They spent a wonderful evening in the backyard, filled with laughter and happiness, washed with good wine and delicious food. 

When it was finally dark and the lights the only light Mycroft pulled Greg close next to him and placed his head on his shoulder.  Greg wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close.

"My house is finally a home." Mycroft whispered softly.

Greg just squeezed Mycroft.

"I finally found my home, you." Greg replied.

 


	218. Secrecy

. Secrecy

Greg looked down at his phone.

One missed call, two texts.  All from Mycroft. 

"Gregory?"

"Please answer."

He should reply or call back at the very least.  It was all a misunderstanding, he didn’t mean to miss him, he was just in shock, still trying to process what he just saw.   Moriarty was on the TV.  On every channel.  

He glanced back at the phone, all three spread out at 5 min intervals.  He doesn't even know where Mycroft is or Sherlock.   After the Magnussen spectacle he was informed that Sherlock will once again leave for an unknown time period.  Which he didn't believe for one moment.  He may not be as smart as them but he knew something was up.  

They love their secrecy and dramatics.   Should've gone into acting.

The thing is, even though he knows he loves them both. Sherlock definitely the annoying brother and Mycroft well. . .

They've been dating for a while now, and this business with Sherlock is kind of the first real serious fight between them.  He just wanted to know what's going on.   He cares for Sherlock and really isn't prepared to lose him again. 

Greg really needs to call back or text back, but he is not quite sure how to proceed.

He wonders whether they know about Moriarty.  Probably.  Mycroft knows everything except for informing Greg about Sherlock. 

Finally getting his brain to function he swallowed the last dregs of his beer and walked out and dialling at the same time.

Mycroft answered before the first ring even finished.

"Gregory?"

"Mycroft?   The TV.  Moriarty."

"I know.  I saw."

"How's Sherlock?"

"High and apparently already in to the new game."

"What?"

"Gregory.  I know we really need to talk, but..."

"Anything.  You know that.  Just ask.  I want to help you."

"Sherlock will appreciate it"

"No. Not Sherlock.  You.   I'll help him too; you know that but my first priority are you. At this very moment, what to you need Mycroft to make the upcoming storm better and easier to handle?"

"You.  Can you meet me at my office, the real one, "

"On my way."  There was so much he wanted to say but this wasn't the time or place, he'll wait till he and Mycroft is alone.   Pocketing his phone he got in his car and drove off.

 


	219. Simplicity

6\. Simplicity

Greg used to be a little sceptic when Mycroft insisted on picnics on top of Greg's complex roof instead of nights out in fancy restaurants.  

That they use the small known cinemas instead of the big ones. 

He found it strange that Mycroft would insist to accompany him when Greg does his shopping or that instead of the high street shops they go to small and intimate markets in the neighbourhoods.   Mycroft even went to lengths that he be informed of the neighbourhoods and districts that have an upcoming market for them to attend.  They would dress casually and spent the day outside.   If the market was some distance they would take Greg's bike.

Greg only found this little part of his partner after several months of dating.   They had a long fight and deep discussion where Mycroft was under the impression that he had to impress Greg with the elite and shine and dine and Greg only did it to keep Mycroft happy. 

The fact was that Mycroft love the simplicity of life and the everyday small things about Greg.   He was so used to the games and motives of the high life that he craved the authenticity of life with Greg. 

It keeps him grounded and he is anonymous to the world.  Just a man with his partner shopping and enjoying time together instead of the British Government who needs to be under constant surveillance and know how. 

"Ready to go?" Mycroft turned to Greg.   They were wearing both their leathers for the bike.

"Absolutely."

"To be clear, just because we're going to your parents and join them for the local community market we can't buy every book and little titbits and store it with them because it won't fit on the bike.   This is why we're using the bike, to limit our shopping."

"I understand, I doubt we will find any books or old time pieces at a local market."

"Oh we will, you most definitely.  I know you.  Plus you'll find a way to convince me to buy it and keep it at your parents."

"Oh, I'm sure we can find a mutual beneficial agreement."

"Well let's not keep them waiting."

"They've never seen me in leathers or riding a bike."

"This is exactly why I told her to keep the camera ready."

 


	220. Muse

7\. Muse

Greg ignored every text that came through his phone.   Well he that's the story he's going with, the truth is that he just didn't hear it.  The battery was flat and he put it on charge in the kitchen, and he didn't hear it over the sound of the movie playing. 

It was one hell of a few days; several murder cases, Sherlock being a right prat which caused an argument, which Greg lost.  Greg snorted and wondered if there was anyone who can actually win against him.

"Mycroft can." He said out loud.  Then again, Mycroft can win anything.

Greg didn't even know if Sherlock knew that he and Mycroft was semi dating.  Most likely.  Although neither of them is high enough on Sherlock priority list to warrant enough attention. 

Putting down his empty beer bottle he leaned back down to finish the movie. 

There was about twenty minutes left when he felt the hand on his shoulder.

"Gregory?" Greg had such a fright that he actually fell down the sofa. 

By the time he got his breath back Mycroft had paused the movie and walked around the sofa to sit down.

"Mycroft! What the hell.  How did you get in?”

"Door was open."

"No it wasn't."

"Oh my mistake."

"Mycroft..."

"You weren't answering your phone and you always do so I got concerned."  Mycroft looked away and Greg slowly started smiling as he walked closer.

"You worry about me?"

"Yes.  Constantly."

"I'm sorry.  Phone was flat so it's charging, had a rough day and a fight with your brother.   Bad one. Needed some space, this movie always had a weird calming sense."

Mycroft looked at the dvd cover.

"Into the wild.  You do know it's sad and the character dies."

"I know.  But he is some kind of muse to me."

"Muse?"

"Some days I'm just as sick and tired of society and everything out there and I have the overwhelming desire to just pack up and disappear.   Will probably plan it also in advance, doubt to so much detail."

"Why haven't you?”

"First he dies. Second we don't have an Alaska and Scotland doesn't count.  Third I don’t think I'll get away from it knowing you and your ninja skills."

"Gregory.  I don’t have ninja skills."

"Oh my bad, it's just that the transport is so amazing I'm sure I'll struggle to keep my taxi cab a secret."

"You're hilarious."

"Yup, why you love me right?”

"You're sarcasm is not the muse I'd go for in motivation to explain my feelings."

"It's a big part.  Admit it."

 


	221. Rhyme

8.. Rhyme.

Greg was running his hand through his hair at such a rate they were permanently in spikey points.  Mycroft stood in the doorway, smiling as he looked at the man, sitting on the floor, legs crossed.   He was obviously in a deep concentration. 

Several pieces of paper was lying around, some were rolled up in balls others ripped in pieces.  Greg was sitting alone on the sofa at Baker Street.   Obviously waiting for his brother and decided to keep him busy.

Making his mind up he walked towards him.

"Gregory?" Greg looked up his face contorted in guilty pleasure.

"Hi Love."

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson invited me in for tea and biscuits and then I saw this." Greg picked up the magazine to show Mycroft who quickly glanced at the article.

"Gregory it's a poetry competition for 7 to 12 year olds."

"I know."

"You're not in this age group, very far from it as a matter of fact."

"Hahaha.  I know but since I'm waiting for your brother I thought how hard it could be and decided to try and write a poem based on one of these themes."

Mycroft glanced again at the article.

"Love.  Friends.  Music and education."

"Yup."

"What theme did you choose?"

"Mycroft."

"Sorry?"

"Theme Mycroft, which is a collaboration of all four themes."

"I see.  May I read it."

"Read what?"

"Your attempt."

"Only if you promise not to laugh."

"You have my word."

"Here you go." Greg handed his sheet for Mycroft to read.

 

"For my amaranthine man.

 

Timeless I'm not

Priceless is above my paygrade.

My heart is still beating,

But the drumroll belongs to you.

I'm not a brilliant poet

Even less a lyrical maker

The melodies of the classics

Belong to the rhythms of your soul

 

The only music rhyme I can do

Is the mimic of your heart.

The only lyrics I'm capable of

Are the words 'I love you."

The best melody I can play

Are my hands on your body.

Somehow it's the best music I've ever listened to.

 

I want to be the one

That one you didn't know you were looking for.

I want to awake the emotions

That was laying in hibernation

Feelings that bloom in the holding of hands.

Maybe it's a bit selfish

Maybe I want to return the favour,

And be everything you didn't know you were looking for.

As you are everything my soul longed for."

 

It was quiet.  Mycroft didn't say a word.   Greg slipped out the room into the kitchen, to make some tea.  He just put the mugs out when he was pulled around and struggled to breathe as Mycroft held him in the tightest embrace ever.  They stood for some time, the whistle announcing the water's boiled but Mycroft didn't let go.

He had no words; he couldn't even begin to think of a response.   The front door opened and they could hear footsteps coming up.   Greg tried to let go but Mycroft still held on. 

Greg could see over Mycroft's shoulder the two men standing in the doorway both a little surprise, but something in Greg’s eyes prohibited them from saying anything.  They slowly walked out to the living room.  When Mycroft finally let go he looked in Greg’s eyes.

"I don't need rhyme or timeless pieces as you are the most beautiful song, poem and verse I've ever read or listened to." With that he left through the side door, ignoring his brother and friends.  At the top of the staircase he looked at Greg, his emotions still quite open and fragile.

"I'm keeping this." He patted his jacket, showing Greg he had the poem.

Greg smiled.

"It was for you anyhow."

 


	222. Pellucid

9.. Pellucid

This didn't happen often.   In fact Greg can remember two instances in the past six years he actually went away on holiday.  That wasn't the best part though; the best part was that he was officially incommunicado.  

That's right he went out big time and decided on one week away.   One week where he for all intents and purposes dropped off the face of the earth.  

He got in his car, drove all the way up to the edge of Scotland, got on a little ferry boat and went to one of the little islands.   He booked himself in, in one of the bed and breakfasts overlooking a lake on one side and the ocean on the other. 

According to the pamphlets and history this island was used as a shipping dock for the Vikings and there are some boats in the water that sank during storms and wars.  If you're really adventurous you can go on a boat and it will take you to some sites.   If it is a clear day and the water pellucid enough you can see the outlines.

Greg was still thinking about it as he stared down the railings into the water.  It was clear and he could see the little stones and shells.  The only thing obscuring his view was his breath as it condensed in front of him. 

He was grateful for the warm parka as the chill went through his bones.  Suddenly the hair on the back of his hair stood up.  Someone was behind him.   Ignoring it he continued to look down as a impressive tall figure appeared next to him. The figure held an umbrella. 

"Mycroft."

"Gregory.   You were out of reach."

"So you came personally to look for me? We're you worried?"

"Sherlock was bored."

“And you?" He didn't receive a reply. 

"Mycroft it's my holiday."

"It's not.  You took personal leave and failed to inform anyone of your plans or whereabouts, you’re phone is off."

"No signal, so no use carrying it."

"You still should've told someone where you were going."

"Like who? We both know I don't have anyone.  Besides Sherlock, but only because I allow him on cases."

"I was concerned."

"Once again, only for Sherlock. I just needed a few days to get away from it all."

"From what?"

"People and their need to hurt everyone.  Here there's none of that. Just nature, just living. No power plays, no deceit, no pain no backstabbing."

"Just a moment to be."

"Yeah."

It was quiet.  Both just looking at the water.  

"Are you planning on taking the tour?"

“Tour? "

"To see the Viking wreckage."

"Don't know yet.   Will definitely need a pint or two to get warm afterwards."

"Let's go then."

"What?"

"The tour, must admit, it will be interesting, and I have a very good smooth brandy. Should warm us up."

"You, me and the tour?" Greg looks dumbstruck.   Mycroft just smiled and started walking towards the boat.

"Come on Gregory."

 


	223. Whimsy

10\. Whimsy

Greg and Mycroft arrived about ten minutes earlier than scheduled.   They were meeting Mycroft's parents at a small and intimate restaurant on the outskirts of London, next to the river.  It was his dad's birthday and the only thing he wanted was a good old fashioned dinner with his family.   Sherlock would bring John as a distraction from his parent’s inquiries and questions about his role with the Yard and on Greg's team.  Since he hated being the centre of attention, John would prove a valuable resource for distraction.  

They booked a small secluded table the closest to the river and lights.   It was beyond beautiful.   Greg instantly fell in love with the place.   He gave a small whistle as he followed Mycroft to the table. 

"This is some place, Mrs Holmes." She beamed up at him.

"It is something special Greg dear, so enchanting."

Greg nodded and hugged her.

"I read the 'whimsy' look is very popular this year, all about being spontaneous and whimsical according to Sally."

"Whimsy?  I like that.   It describes it nicely." Greg agreed and moved on to Mr. Holmes. 

"Happy birthday sir.  May the year ahead be more whimsical and spectacular than before." Mycroft's father laughs heartily.

"Thank you Greg."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he wished he greeted and wish his father a happy birthday.   The table was set in a white table cloth, with black chiffon trimmings and small glitter like decorations; it gave it a starry night scene.   The cutlery was all silver. 

Sherlock and John arrived on time and to make sure all went well, Greg and John sat between the brothers giving enough distance.  

Greg was a little worried that Sherlock was going to make snide remarks or jokes about dessert, but strangely he didn't.   John must have had a word or he is trying to impress their parents with good behaviour.  

The desert was a lovely dark chocolate and salted caramel cheesecake that Greg adored.  

He loved it so much that he grabbed Mycroft's thigh under the table, giving him a look that clearly said he must find a way to get this. 

The evening was fun and wonderful.  There were no interruptions and no sarcasm or snide remarks.  

They actually chatted long into the night, more precisely Greg and John and Mycroft’s parents kept the conversation alive and full of laughter and jokes.  Mycroft looked at Greg in uttered amazement, here he was with both Holmes brothers and their parents and he was enjoying himself.   He could see every facial expression and body language spoke off genuine relaxing and calmness.   He fitted right in, more importantly he somehow kept everything together and peaceful.  

He wondered if he will ever seize to be amazed by this man. He hopes not.  Greg made him feel spontaneous and whimsy and honestly?  He wouldn't have had it any other way.


	224. Complex

11\. Complex.

At the surface Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade looks like a very simple and practical man. His life is an open book; he doesn't have big and scandalous skeletons in the closet. 

And that is what makes him one of the most underrated persons Mycroft ever had to deal with. 

Where he expected him to turn Sherlock away from his crime scene like all the others, Greg allowed him to speak and listened.

When Sherlock said he's a Consulting Detective and would help, instead of laughing and pushing him away Greg said only if he stays clean. 

When Sherlock disappeared from Greg's life for a few weeks, Greg went to search for him, and helped Sherlock through whatever withdrawal he was going through.

When everybody said Sherlock was a criminal and should be arrested Greg called ahead and warned him.

The list is endless, Greg was statistically supposed to do one thing, yet he did the complete opposite.   No matter how many times Mycroft would predict a path or way Greg will take, he does the opposite.   It was infuriating.  

The idea that Greg just might mean a bit more to him than he ever thought was possible came when Sherlock was in hospital yet again and Mycroft sat by his bedside.   He knew Greg was there earlier, but it was when he came sneaking in through the hospital door,  wearing a track suit underneath his jacket and a bag filled with snacks and sandwiches as well as a flask with coffee to keep vigil watch over Sherlock that he realised that this simple man, was the most complex human he ever dealt with.

 


	225. Prelude

12\. Prelude 

It was late, the officers were tired but they were focused on getting the job done. Greg was overseeing everything and the only reason they were able to work quickly and efficiently was because Sally was helping Greg with his duties.  
Greg knew that he should be thankful, tonight could've gone worse, much worse. Instead of a late night with a murdered cabbie, he could've had a dead Consulting Detective on his hands. Small mercies, but he wouldn't take it. Regardless of size.  
After his little chat with Sherlock he noticed the black sleek car. Mycroft. Yet he didn't make a move towards it, instead he continued giving orders and hoping that he might still get home before midnight. Not likely.  
Greg was standing between the two buildings looking up at the window with the small bullet hole. He may not know what happened in that room, but he does know who shot the cabbie and frankly he is astonished that the man was so quick to protect Sherlock and trust him. He heard the ambulance in the distance taking off with the body, but didn't turn around. He could really use a cigarette about now.  
"Surprising turn of events don't you think?"  
Greg finally looked down at the man standing next to him. So immaculate, so well put together.  
"Good evening to you too Mycroft."  
"Detective Inspector."  
"Greg. If I'm allowed to call you by your name and not title, so can you?" Mycroft sighed.  
"Besides Mr, I don't have a title."  
Greg gave him a wicked smile.  
"Illustrious, poker-face or secretive not descriptive enough? Have you ever considered hustling with those skills?"  
"Pardon?"  
"Hustling with your ninja skills? Bet you can make a killing in the pool business."  
"I have..."  
"No idea what you mean." Greg finished for him. Mycroft pulled his face and Greg actually started laughing. He turned and walked back to the car. His face turned serious.  
"Bet tonight is a bit of a conundrum?"  
"How so?"  
"Sherlock made a friend, a genuine one, who came to his rescue and the cabbie who worked under someone else's orders."  
"Rescue?" Mycroft asked as he followed Greg to his car.  
"Mycroft we both know who shot that cabbie, and we both know I won't be able to do anything about it. We also both know that you are pleased, very pleased about Sherlock's new friend and is waiting in anticipation for the new challenges those two will bring."  
Mycroft stared at Greg, unsure what to say, because as much as he'd like to deny it, Greg was right and he hated that he was such an open book to the inspector.  
"Do you have any idea who the cabbie was working for?"  
"No." Greg ran his head through his hair, something on his mind.  
"Gregory you look uneasy."  
"I can't describe it, I know you and Sherlock deal with facts but my gut is telling me that this, all this is somehow a prelude."  
"Prelude to what?"  
"No idea, but tonight has been strange." Greg looked down at his team slowly departing and finishing their final duties.  
"You know what. Ignore me, I'm tired, had a long day without coffee and food. Today's just been a bit weird."  
"Gregory. You may be right. In all the years I've known you, your ability to sense things have made you a good cop regardless of what my brother says. However, the events will only be revealed in due time. But for tonight. May I offer you a lift home? I'll even stop for food."  
"Sure. You had me at food." Rolling his eyes Mycroft opened the door for them.  
"Oh by the way Mycroft, I want dessert as well."


	226. Aubade

13\. Aubade  

Mycroft woke up the music filling the house. It was one of the weekends where he would stay with Greg at his place. The rule was they would share their time at each other’s place. Mycroft hated the rule, not because Greg's place was much smaller and not as secured, no he hated it because it meant Greg wasn't living with him. To be fair, Greg didn't know that Mycroft wanted him to move in, since they've been hardly dating for a year.  
No matter.  
Mycroft stretched and his hand traveled to Greg's side.  
Not ice cold so he must have left a little while ago. The smell of bacon and eggs filtered through the air and the rumble of his stomach finally made him get out of bed.  
He didn't bother with a robe and decided on one of Greg's over sized hoodie shirts. He walked out the bedroom towards the living room where the music was much louder.  
He stepped into the kitchen and froze. Greg was dressed in his faded jeans without a shirt or shoes. Mycroft's mouth went dry.  
Yes. He needed to get Greg to live with him before he changed his mind about him. This man is a keeper. Greg turned around the kettle in his one hand and the teapot in the other.  
Greg was staring at Mycroft. Mycroft made that sweatshirt look good, better than he ever did. He was so glad that he was able to get such an amazing man willing to be in a relationship with him.  
"My."  
"Gregory."  
They spoke at the same time. Greg lifted his teapot In a silent question. Mycroft nodded and step closer to sit down at the table. The food looked delicious.  
Greg sat down opposite Mycroft.  
They ate silently, both staring at each other when the other one looked away.  
Mycroft was the first to speak.  
"I can get used to this. Not everyday I wake up to music, breakfast and a half naked man."  
Greg smiled.  
"I hope not, would make me very jealous."  
"Is that so?"  
"Most definitely."  
They ate in silence when the song changed. Greg got up and started singing along.  
"Money talks, but it can't sing and dance and it can't walk. As long as I can have you here with me, I'd much rather be, forever in blue jeans."  
Mycroft pulled him closer by grabbing the belt loops.  
"Thank you for the little impromptu aubade, and if I can, I'd spend every penny on buying you these awesome jeans."  
Greg laughed and sat down in Mycroft's lap.  
"I would wear it just so you can drag me closer to you by the loops."  
Mycroft held him close, his face serious.  
Greg became worried but Mycroft stopped him before he could say anything.  
"Move in with me?"


	227. Unmarked

14\. Unmarked

There were many things Greg came to appreciate about London.   Shops that were open 24/7, which meant people like him could get coffee whenever they need it.

The parks so that even in one of the busiest cities in the world he could find a little bit of nature in a peace and quiet corner of the world. 

Entertainment is readily and easily available, whether it being museums, art, sports or plays, it was there at the end of a cab ride, at a Underground stop.

The only problem is that he isn't in the mood for any of that.   At this moment nothing the great London has to offer is enticing enough for Greg to participate. 

It's just one of those days where everything is feeling as though it's falling apart or breaking in to pieces that he can't pick up fast enough.  

With a slow move he pulled up his collar of his black coat and wrapped his arms around his chest.   The self-hug did little to bring comfort to the swirling emotions inside.   His feet walked on auto towards his home, where the cold place offers the smallest bit of warmth in the form of a shower and coffee.  

The best in a bad situation.  He continued to walk and the only tip that something was off was how the people he passed where staring at him with scepticism and worry.  His first thought was that it was his posture until his eyes caught the reflection in a window. 

Unmarked.

A black shiny and smooth unmarked car was following him.  The lump in his throat tripled in size and his shoulders sagged.   The car stopped next to him and the door opened.   Greg watch as Mycroft climbed out, his hands resting beside him, his hands without the crutch of an umbrella.   

Mycroft's face spoke of silent understanding, regret and compassion and Greg didn't try to hide the relief that someone out there in the big city fell in the category of his interest.

Something caught his attention to break the spell of loneliness and despair and he met Mycroft halfway.  They held on to each other as if their coats were made out of glue. 

"I'm sorry for your loss Gregory."

"Promise me one thing."

"If I can."

"Don't ever disappear from my life with your unmarked cars and umbrella and everything.  Just don't disappear."

 


	228. Self-sacrifice

15\. Self-sacrifice

Two words and one world broke on its axis.   Maybe broken is a strong word. Fractured sounds better, although the potential for a complete break was there. 

Mycroft stood as though he just transformed into a statue, his hands were still clutched tight around his umbrella, but the grip didn't faltered.  

His eyes were locked on the building in front of him, the noises crackling in his ear. 

John stood next to him, his face slowly giving way to the pain and resignation from the situation, his fists clenched.

He turned to Mycroft who, after a few seconds turned to him. 

This day turned out to be straight out of hell.

"Excuse me?" The anonymous voice asked and Mycroft could hear over the radio he was confused.

"Take me." Greg replied again.

"And why should I do that?"

Greg turned to Sherlock who stood next to him, not even trying to hide his emotions, regret and forgiveness.  Sherlock knew what he was about to do.  Greg was about to say a few things that might hurt Sherlock but it was the only way to get the man to take him.  Greg knew the odds are better with him being kidnapped instead of Sherlock.  Sherlock stood a better chance of finding him than the other way around.

"Because he's a nobody, a homeless drug addict no one would miss. I'm a detective Inspector with the Yard; you stand a better chance to get what you want with me."

Mycroft sighed as he heard Greg's voice, he knew instantly what Greg was up to you, and so did Sherlock who didn't even try to interrupt. 

Sherlock looked at Greg as if seeing him for the first time.  He also knew that Greg had a soft spot for him, but he never thought for one moment that he would place his life before his.  The kidnapper is a murderer with no regard towards his victims and here Greg is willingly placing his life in danger for Sherlock to get away.  He always knew Greg was willing to help when no one else, but this time he was really angry with Greg's Self-sacrifice characteristics.

"Fine."

Mycroft finally broke his statue posture and bowed his head, he let go of the umbrella as it fell to the ground in a hopeless little heap. John chocked back a cry as the man's orders came through the speaker.

"Tie him up and gag him, take off your coat and empty your pockets, we’re leaving through the back."

The sounds of a coat being removed and the sounds of his cuffs as it locked around Sherlock's wrists was all they heard until the sounds became softer and then disappeared.  

For several seconds it was dead quiet until Sherlock broke the silence.

"They're gone, can someone please release me, I need to find them."

 


	229. Reason

16\. Reason

They watched the movie in silence, Mycroft was actually a bit surprised, Greg would always find a way to say something about the film they are watching, especially cop and crime shows.

When a movie is playing and Greg is silent it usually meant that the movie is upsetting him.  Whether it is the characters, the plot line or the overall portrayal.   He was quiet during "into the wild" he didn't speak during "12 years a slave." Not even to asked for popcorn or if Mycroft was comfortable.  

They happened to watch this movie by chance, they were reading and the television was on, the movie just starting and they decided to watch it. 

In the first few minutes he would say something and then he turned quiet.  Really quiet.   Mycroft couldn't help to notice that the main male character was very handsome.   He was not in your face and had this dreamy quality about him that put him above the rest of the cast.

The movie ended and he was surprised usually there was a happy ending but not this time.  It made the movie real.

“It was a really good movie but I hated it."

"Sorry?" Mycroft asked as he looked at Greg.

"It was good, but I hated it.  She didn't get to be with the man she loved, Joseph Lees and got manipulated and abused to stay with Harry."

"Not all relationships end with a happy note Gregory."

"I know that My, but she is young and even though Harry never physically abused her, the emotional abuse and manipulation is much worse.   He even killed the dogs."

"I'll admit, that was uncalled for, however according to his mind he had valid reason."

"He needs serious help and now that young woman is subjected to a lifetime of abuse and there is no valid reason for that. I'm not saying she should've walked off into the sunset with Joseph, but she shouldn't stay with Harry.  No matter the reasons.  She'll never love him, and he will always know deep down she doesn't love him and is only staying out of guilt.   A relationship like that will never work."

"Gregory." Greg got up and crouched down so he was eye level with Mycroft.

"I love you, not of what you are and who you know, I love you for you, without any reason or rhyme or explanation.  I love you.  Please don't hesitate to tell me if you feel you need a reason to stay.   I don’t want to be your emotional abuser or manipulator; I don't want to give you a reason to stay."

Mycroft slowly put his hands on Greg's cheeks.

"You're not abusing me or manipulating me in any way.  The only reason I stay is because I love you, not for what you did with Sherlock, but you as in the only reason I smile spontaneously is because I've met you.   You are the reason for my smiles, my happy days, and my heart to beat without restrictions.  You’re my Joseph Lees."

Greg laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Mycroft. 

"Good.   Good.  Wait, does that make you Eva?"

"Shut up Gregory."


	230. Morning

 

17\. Morning

Greg walked into work, another Monday another week, and it's much worse than normal because Mycroft is out of the country for the week.

His first stop is the kitchen to get a coffee as he filled his cup his eye caught the board.   There in bright red ink was a 'morning message' he didn't mind it really, as he is learning quite a few quotes and inspiring notes.  Today however he really is not in the mood for some Zen, Monday motivation message.   This particular one he feels inclined to strangle if he could.  

Instead he poured an extra spoon of sugar while staring at the board in defiance. 

He gave it one more glare as he walked out towards his office.

His Monday didn't improve. 

By Wednesday he had it with looking at the board in the morning with that stupid little quote.   Someone even went so far as to decorate the words with doodles and flowers.   If he finds that culprit.....

He didn't even know they had so many colours in the office, has struggled to find two colours in working order when he has to use the board.

By Friday he had it, he hasn't heard anything from Mycroft, but even to say he was safe or when he'll be back.   Sherlock had a go at him for acting like a long lost lover waiting for her Bonny over the sea. 

He was real glad that they caught a big case the afternoon and took them long into the night.  By Saturday morning he was the only one in the office and as he made his way to the kitchen that little message of positively was haunting him and in a moment where he lost his temper he took the eraser and took great delight in removing the message. 

"There, how do you like me now?"

"Very much indeed."

Greg spun on his heels to the voice and then released his breath as if he struggled to contain it all this time.

"My."

Mycroft stepped closer, seeing the exhaustion and worry ha carried this past week.

"I'm sorry for not being in touch, but I'm safe and sound and home."

Greg just pulled him closer, holding him tight.

"Yeah.  Good.  That's good."

Greg decided right there and then that no morning message will ever be inspiring enough than Mycroft's body in his arms.

 


	231. Nocturne

18\. Nocturne

If anyone would do a Internet history search or a YouTube playlist search you'd be surprised.  Mycroft did, well it was for the sake of national security and so on, and this is why he was so surprised to find endless searches of classical music and piano melodies.  He needed to know more.  He wanted to know more.

He finally got his chance on a late Thursday night, just before midnight.   He was told that Greg was still at the Yard working overtime.  

He ordered the driver to take him straight to his offices; he also stopped to get some coffee and something to eat.  Greg would've forgotten to eat. 

The open offices was empty and dark, the only light came from the office in the corner; Greg's. 

The door was closed but he could see that Greg was inside, not working though; he was hunched over, his head resting on his arms as he was sleeping. 

Mycroft softly opened the door and went inside.  

The soft music instantly calmed him down and he knows why it was so easy for Greg to fall asleep.   Besides being tired, the music was very calming and soothing. 

The perfect nocturne piece to play.  It was enchanting, mystical and calming.   Mycroft loved it. 

He stepped closer to Greg, who still hasn't woken up.  Softly he put the coffee down on the table and sat down in the opposite chair. 

He really wanted to wake him up, but couldn’t.  This was the perfect moment to study Greg without an audience.  

He looked peaceful, the lines were much shallower and he knew that if he could see the man in a bed, he would look ten years younger.  

"Mycft." Mycroft shook out of observation. Greg was awake but still resting on his arms.

"Gregory." With that Greg sat up and stretched his arms.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked but his eyes were on the coffee, the steam swirling in the air. Mycroft tried to hide his smile.

"Isn't it a bit late for you as well?"

"Hmm." He replied, eyes still on the coffee.

"One is yours, just drink it." Greg gave a wide smile as he picked up his cup and drank.

"Hmm perfect."

"So why are you working late."

"Paperwork.  Still fresh in my mind."

"And the music?  I didn't know you weren't a classical lover?"

"Am not.   Although I do think I'm about to change my mind.  Have been listening to so many classical music that I'm developing a taste for it."

"And why are you listening to it all of a sudden."

"Because of you."

"Excuse me?"

"Sally and Anderson were talking the other day and apparently every person has a song.   That when you heard it they think of one single person."

"And you are..?"

"Testing it.  Turns out they have a valid point, because whenever I hear que sera sera I think of my mother.  My dad has his own song and so on, but I don’t have one for you."

"Do you need one for me?"

"Yes. Everybody important in my life has one."

"And how is the search going?"

"Difficult.   But I've narrowed it down to 3."

"Which are?"

"Ballad pour Adeline, Moonlight Sonata or I can't remember but it's from Tchaikovsky."

"Why those?"

"Because you are unique, an enigma, you don't belong to the everyday music with its rhythm and noise, but a song made for the night, when emotions are more real, the truth is deeper and the music reflect your soul."

It was quiet, Mycroft was just staring and Greg felt like an idiot.  Pushing himself away from the desk he got up

"Well just ignore me; I've always been a bit melodramatic at night?  Like I said, people are more open and revealing."

Mycroft got up and stopped Greg.

"I quite like melodramatic. I'm also open to your choice of music; may I help you in your quest?  I do have a vast knowledge in that area."

"Over dinner, or coffee perhaps?" Greg asked while staring at Mycroft. 

"Yes."

 


	232. Evenfall

19 evenfall

The crime scene was at a film set, secretly Greg loved it,  not the fact that he get to interview a few upcoming stars and celebrities,  not it was that the movie was set in Victorian times and the whole set was just blowing away his mind.  Even John loved it.  They were standing outside the set where Sherlock was currently doing his thing.

"Can you imagine having to live in this era?" Greg asked as he looked around.

"God no.   The restrictions, can you imagine someone like Sherlock?" They looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

"Oh my soul!"

"Actually I think he'll fit in with his dramatics, probably be known as a bohemian man."

Sherlock came walking over looking at the two men laughing.

"When you're done, do you want to hear about your victim?" Greg tried to stop laughing and opened his note book.

"Yeah give me."

"You're looking for a... oh no what are you doing here?" Sherlock looked over Greg's shoulder to where Mycroft was walking towards them.

"That is none of your concern my dear little brother."

They were just about to start a new argument when one of the stars came over.

"I'm looking for detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"That's me. You are?"

"Don't you recognise me?"

"Uhm. No. Sorry.  I don't watch much TV."

"Oh well.  That's a shame because I really think a face like yours belong in the starlight." Greg tried to smile but clearly he was uncomfortable.  This is a crime scene and here she is flirting with the man.  Sherlock was trying to see how Mycroft is going to react with this women flirting with his partner.   Mycroft pursed his lips, his hands clenching the umbrella. 

"Thanks, I like what I do. So did you see anything?"

"Oh I see a lot. Inspector."

"I mean relating to the case."

She sighed as she looked back towards the set.

"No. I don't talk to my colleagues beyond that of the script."

"Okay. Right.  So this scene?"

"Was about lust and passion, the forbidden couple kissing in the evenfall, while planning their elopement."

Greg cleared his throat, his body posture that off someone who who'd much rather be anywhere else.

"So happy ending?"

"No. He dies. Well in the movie, not real life.  Do you want to walk away in the sunset with someone?"

"I already did."

"Was the elopement satisfactory?"

"Didn't elope." Greg could feel the heat of Mycroft's eyes on his back, so he straightens his shoulders and back.

"I love him too much to make him elope; instead I'll make him stand in front of his whole family as I declare my love. And the only thing we'll do in the evenfall, won’t be kissing." She stared at Greg, her face contorted in anger and looking at the rest she snorted and walked away.  Greg turned back to the three men eyes fixed on him.

"That was revolting; I’m going to have to delete this now."  Sherlock uttered as he walked away.  John smiled and shook Greg's hand.

"That was awesome." Greg watched as they walked away, knowing he'll have to go round Baker Street to get the details about the case.  He turned to Mycroft.

"So."

"So."

"For a moment I wished we could be public, I wanted to grab you and shoved you in her face saying this is mine you don't stand a chance."

"I want to deport her to another planet, a different galaxy if that were possible."

"That's a little bit sexy you know."

Mycroft smiled and look over Greg's shoulder.

"She's watching us."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I got something better in mind." Mycroft indicated for Greg to follow him and as they turned he put his hand on Greg's butt and then looked back winking at her.

 


	233. Glittering

20\. Glittering

They were on holiday, more like a weekend away but it was enough.  Two days on the beach.  Mycroft booked the little house facing the beach close enough to go swimming, far enough that no tide will cause concern.   It was secluded and private, it was perfect. 

Greg was the one basking in the sun every moment he could, while Mycroft was the one with the spf50 and up sunscreen under the big umbrella with an ice cold drink in his hand and a book in the other.  

"My!" Mycroft pulled the book down to look at Greg yelling from the waves.

He was in a floral print surf shorts and enjoying the water. His hands waved in the air.

"Come on!"

Mycroft shook his head.  It may be a bit late in the afternoon but he is not taking the chance. 

"Please.  I'll even strip down."

'Strip down? The man is only wearing his shots'.   Feeling the heat Mycroft stood up and walked closer.  This is something he got to see.  He stopped as the little waves touched his feet.  Greg gave him a devilishly wicked smile as his hands pulled the strings on his shorts.

"Gregory.  What are you doing?"

Greg stepped closer until he was about two meters away.

Glittering. 

That was the first word that came to mind.   And Mycroft will forever deny it if it came out.  He'll use words like splendid, marvellous, dappled, and shimmering and so on.

This moment, his brain supplied him with glittering. 

The drops of water were cascading in rivulets down his torso, the grey hair slick and wet.  The sun shined on every drop, making his glowing in the sun. Mycroft was speechless.

"Come on My, come swim with me, I know you're an excellent swimmer, so come on."

Well when the god of the sea present him with Triton or Poseidon or whatever Gregory is at the moment how can he say no?


	234. Frisson

21\. Frisson

Greg was nervous, so much that he nicked himself shaving put on five different shirts and still felt half dressed.   His hair was all over the place and it didn't matter how much he tried to get it in a nice style his hair had other plans. 

When he was finally done and dressed he had about two minutes left.  Mycroft is nothing if not punctual.

'Should he go and wait outside? No that's desperate. Pretend he just finished?  No Mycroft would see through that. Bite his nails?  No wait he is not a nail biter, he’s a smoker.... who quit.

The knock at his door finally silenced his racing heart and head. If the knock slowed his heart it was nothing compared to the moment his eyes rested on the man in front of him. 

His brain froze and his heart stopped. 

"Hel... his mouth all of a sudden forgot how to speak.  Somewhere his brain must register on some level that he is making an idiot of himself but the neurons where holding that information back.

"Gregory?"

"Hmm." he managed as he smiled at Mycroft. 

"Are you alright?"

"Wow, you look amazing." Mycroft was surprised at the obvious and genuine truth behind the statement.   He read the nervousness in his posture, the small skin cut under his jaw, the hair in spikey points.

"So do you. Did you change your shirt four times?"

"Five."

Mycroft knew that this man, this potential relationship will be the most important thing he ever do, his heart, his life is at stake.   He took a step closer.

"What would you say if I told you I'm nervous too?"

"Yeah?"

"Certainly."

"Good. Not good as in good but as in."

"I know.  Good as in good."

"Yeah that good."

"Shall we go?" Mycroft could see that Greg was more relaxed, and too be honest, so is he.

"Yes." Mycroft followed Greg out, his hand a few inches from his, as they stepped outside their arms brushed and Mycroft knew this was the moment he was looking for all these past years. 

When they met Mycroft felt a brief shiver of pleasure, ‘frisson’ his mind described the sensation and he has never felt it again.   He craved it, and here tonight when their arms touched he felt it again.

Greg was his, and subsequently he was Greg's.  In every way possible.

 


	235. Tangled

22\. Tangled

When Greg slowly came to the first thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone.   His arm was curled around a soft but lean body, his was spooning behind someone. 

A male, and tall.   He opened his eyes to find soft dark auburn hair in front of him, the tips curling and he couldn't stop a smile.  

Pale white shoulders with stars and constellations decorations.  

Mycroft.

Greg fell giddy, and his arms pulled closer.  

"Are you done examining my neck and shoulders and holding me tight do you think you can let go so I can use your bathroom?"

"Huh uh. Took me years.  Like a gazillion years to get you here and I'm not letting you go."

Mycroft just chuckled in response.  He did however shifted so that he turned around and was facing Greg who looked at him with the widest and happiest grin he had ever seen.

"Gazillions?  Thought it was seven?"

Greg shrugged half-heartedly.

"Felt like that."

"I know what you mean."

"Seriously though I want you to know how genuinely happy I am having you here.  Not just after last night, but that you stayed and are willing to invest time with us." Mycroft was touched.   He could read the emotions clearly on Greg's face yet he took the time and effort to say it to his him, which made it more special.  He didn't know how to respond so he just held him tighter. 

It was about five minutes later that they heard the unmistakable sounds of someone at the door,  the sounds of his lock being picked open was clear.  They look at each other, eyes wide and one word on their lips.

"Sherlock." Mycroft tried to extract himself from Greg who tried the same at his side and they both went to opposite sides with the blanket. They ended up falling backwards tangled in the blankets and each other.   They stared and slowly the smiles develop in the corners of their mouths, and then give way to soft giggling.   They heard Sherlock's voice booming a loud “No! Impossible John." Before the bedroom door burst open and Sherlock stepped inside.   His eyes were wide in surprise John was shocked.   Greg and Mycroft at the two men and slowly back to each other.  

Sherlock was the first to speak blabbing a loud and clear.

“What the hell is this?"

Mycroft replied as dignified as he could while taking Greg's hand and kissing the palm.

"This little brother is the beginning of an amazing relationship."

 


	236. Dormant

23\. Dormant

 

When Greg woke up he was disorientated and confused.  Blinking a few times he tried to push the slow thud of the headache away.  Taking a deep breath he tried to sit up only to bump his head. 

"Bollocks!" Trying again he used his hands to feel his way around him, the more he felt the more panicked he became.   He tried to lift his legs but it bumped.   There is something above him, something solid. 

With hesitant effort he shifted his legs sideways, it hardly moved before it bumped against something solid on either side. 

"Oh God no." Greg couldn’t keep the shiver out of his voice.  

"This isn't real. It's not real."

As he tried to move again his head bumped against something on his side.  He picked it up.  It was a torch, and his mobile phone was attached with some clear tape.  

His fingers we're shaking as he switched the flash light on.  This was a mistake, a dreadful mistake. The small space illuminated with light and he eyes took in his surroundings.   His claustrophobia that laid dormant for the whole of his teenage and adult life came back to life with a force that shattered the little resolve he had left.  

He led out a blood curling scream that reverberated through the air and made his ears whistle. 

"Gregory!" Greg froze.  That voice.  Mycroft.

"My." He hoarsely whispered.

"Calm down."

"Easy for you to say."

"Do you know where you are?"

"No."

"Do you know in what you are?”

"A coffin.  I'm buried alive My." Facing the facts was harder than he thought.  Soft falling tears ran down his face.

"I'll find you."

"You're not real. I'm hallucinating you."

"Then hallucinate me. Hallucinate me until your pulse is slow and your heartbeat is no more than a lullaby.  And above all.  Do. Not. Fall. Asleep."

Greg closed his eyes and shut the light off, and then counted to ten as he willed his breathing to slow down and relax.

Several minutes passed when he opened his eyes and switch his phone on.  He looked through his messages and read all of them, deleting as he went along.  Everyone except for Mycroft's, Sherlock’s, John’s and Sally's.  He may not have any idea how he was taken, and the last thing he remembered was going to the bathroom at the court he was testifying. 

His phone has just gone past three in the morning, so he was in here, presumably about 17 hours.   Long enough for someone to realise he had gone missing.   He was to have lunch with Mycroft at one which was two hours later than the court appearance, which means they had been hopefully looking for him for 15 hours or so.  His mind was too fuzzy to think. 

He scrolled to the last message of Mycroft.

"My gratitude is endless when you said what you said last night.  I am looking forward to the new adventure ahead.   Enjoy your day and I'll see you all lunch."

Greg let the new tear roll down his face.  He said that maybe they should make their relationship a little more permanent.   Mycroft was very keen to the prospect of being permanently attached to him. 

He really wished that Mycroft finds him.  Or Sherlock.  Anyone really. 

His fingers lingered on the phone's buttons, if he was to die here, maybe he should leave a message? What do you say? "Hi Mycroft sorry for getting kidnapped and buried alive, sorry to miss our lives together.  Take care?"

He clutched the phone as a new set of emotions overcame him.   He choked as he tried to breathe; he was unsure whether it was from the emotions and crying or lack of oxygen.

“Gregory my dearest, please calm down."

"I'm so sorry.  I wanted to grow old with you."

"You will.  We will. I'll find you.   I'll always find you." Greg wiped his eyes; he was so sentimental or just mental as he his brain is trying desperately to tell him what he wants to hear.   He wasn't sure how long he laid there, willing himself to relax.   When he looked at his phone again it was around four in the morning.  He had a pounding headache.  'Lack of oxygen' his mind informed him.

He opened his texts.  Four texts.  Before the battery is flat. 

One to Sally, one to John, one to Sherlock and one for Mycroft.  He did Mycroft's last. 

He had little time left. He knew that.  With a deep sigh he placed the phone in his inner jacket pocket hoping that if they ever find him or his body they'd find the phone with the messages or hopefully the messages will go through somehow.  They needed to know that he'd cared and loved them. 

"You can't give up. I'm close."

"My.  I love you.  So much.  And as much as I'm hoping you're right, you’re just saying what my heart wants to hear, but I know it's wishful thinking."

"I don't do much sentiment."

"Yeah you do."

"I will find you."

"I know, you found me when I was unaware I was lost.  I just don't think I'll be awake to thank you."

"Ridiculous.  You will."

Greg just smiled as he let the tears rolled out closed eyelids.  

"Gregory! I told you not to fall asleep."

"Just five minutes Love."

"No! Wake up."

"Love you My. Don't forget.  Never."

"Gregory!"

"GREGORY!"

Greg ignored the voice that seemed to be getting louder and louder consuming him from inside out.

There was a pressure at the sides of his face, it was irritating and preventing him from sleep.

"Wake up!  Gregory!" He must really try to stop his hallucinating from becoming so irritated.   Just when he was about to force his eyes open the voice returned, soft and shattering in his ear.

"Please.  Don't leave me." He tried to open his eyes to tell his hallucination it wasn't his fault and only a groan escaped his mouth. The voice was hopeful, the pressure on his sides lifting when another voice spoke.

"Greg.   It's John; can you open your eyes?"

He didn't want to hallucinate John or Sherlock, just Mycroft.  With John came the smell of antiseptic and medicine and a stabbing pain in his arm.  With renewed effort he tried to open his eyes to tell John to piss of, if he was dying he gets to choose who accompanied him. The sky was dark with stars sparkling in the sky, when a sudden bright light was waving in front of him. 

"Pupils slow to respond."

"Gregory?" Greg turned to the source of the voice and choked back the tears.  Mycroft was bending over him, the night sky behind him, slowly turning to sunrise and Greg didn't think Mycroft could look any more breath-taking if he tried.  He tried to talk,  to get up but was to weak.

"Shh. Lay back." Mycroft leaned over and whispered.

"Told you I'll find you."

 


	237. Iridescent

24\. Iridescent

Mycroft didn't know what to expect, but this wasn't it.  He was with his parents at the grand opening of a new play; Sherlock went along to his dismay.  It was intermission and they were all standing outside in the foyer, each with their drinks when his eyes landed on a sight that took his breath away, he nearly chocked on his drink.  

On the other side of the room was Gregory, in a beautiful black suit, it looked as though it was hand crafted.   But that wasn't the part that took him surprise, no it was that he was at the door that leads backstage and the main actress was chatting to him as if they've been friends for years. 

Sherlock turned to his brother and noticed how he stared at something; he turned around and was just as surprised to see what his brother were staring at.  He flicked open his phone and dialled.

"Sherlock what are you doing?"

Sherlock ignored him and Mycroft watched as Greg's hand disappeared in his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone, he smiled as he excused himself from the women,  turned his back and answered.  

"Sherlock are you okay?"

"Okay? Of course I'm okay." Mycroft rolled his eyes and smiled at Sherlock's answer and Greg obvious concern. 

"What are you doing gallivanting with that woman?"

Mycroft was looking intently at Greg's reaction.  He looked up; his body tensed and searched the room until his eyes caught theirs.  He went from surprise to resignation and shook his head.  He hanged up his phone and went to the woman, he whispered something to her and then he led her towards them. 

"Good evening everybody."

"Lestrade." Sherlock said while reading the woman.  Mycroft stepped forward. 

"Good evening Gregory.  May I introduce my parents?"

"Our parents."  Sherlock replied.  Greg just smiled and turned to their parents.

"Yes. Please."

"This is Mummy Violet and this father, Sherrinford Holmes."

"Hi. Greg Lestrade." Mycroft's parents were very happy to meet him and they were immediately at ease.  Greg turned to the woman.

"May I introduce Kate McGready the little star of the show?" She shook their hands and Mycroft’s parents compliment her on her acting and play.  Mycroft was trying very hard to show his interest but his attention kept going to Greg.  How does he know the woman, what is he doing here and why isn't he wearing a suit of this calibre more often?  Not to mention the tie. A beautiful iridescent brown and gold, which would have sunshine streaks if the light caught it.  Just like his eyes.   This unfortunately is popping brighter than ever.

His mom’s question brought him back to reality.

"So how did you two met?"

Yes how.  He mentally added and saw that Greg had all four Holmes's undivided attention. He blushes with the intensity of their gaze.   Kate answered.

"We we're in school together, we lived in the same street and Greg would always walked with me to school or share his lunch with me.   I used to tell the kids he’s my brother."

"That's wonderful." Violet said while smiling at her.

"He is, and now that my wife is away on business he plays my plus one."

"Yeah it beats sitting watching a game alone home." Greg said with a shy smile.

"It better." She joked.  Her eye caught the time.

"I better get back backstage, the intermission is almost over, it was lovely to meet you, and maybe we can have some coffee together?"

They all agreed on meeting here after the show again and as they turned to walk away Sherlock grabbed Greg and said.

"You need to practise your acting skills, it's clear you're not enjoying the play, you’re worse than Mycroft."

"It's a lovely romantic comedy with a happy ending." Mycroft commented and Greg nodded.

"Exactly.   That never happens in real life. He turned to Mycroft.

"Wait.  You don’t like it either?  So how about I we go to the little bar and find a good spot for the coffee later? I'm kind of desperate to leave the play. Can't even play a game on my phone." Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"How childish the game is boring anyway. Mycroft should join you, I'm tired of him."

"I'm sure he is in his element with you as well." Greg turned to Mycroft.

"Come on, first round is on me."

Mycroft was about to decline when his tie and eyes caught the light and that iridescent transferred from the material to his eyes and he was captivated. 

"Lead the way."

 


	238. Dreamlike

25\. Dreamlike.

Greg looked around and sighed. 

Yup he was lost. 

He had absolutely no idea where he was.

Earth?  Checked.

Northern hemisphere?  Checked.

England? Checked.

Wood?  Checked.

Anything else?  Not checked.

The evidence led him towards a small country side, next to a forest.   Giving himself a mental slap against his head he took a breath and took out the small map. 

"Agh. No use." He cried out in frustration.   He really should've taken more care in coming here or waited for the local officer who wanted to guide him.

Finding a rock he sat down and took a sip of the water, his mind replying the conversation earlier.

 

"So our vic was hiding something in the woods?"

"Yes sir." The officer replied all confident and interested.  Greg was wondering why he was smiling so much until he caught the obvious lustful look in his eye.  Oh.

"Right. Do you have any idea whereabouts?"

"No sir? My shift ends in a little while then I can accompany you, I know the woods quite well."

Greg was a bit flustered. His instincts tell him exactly what this guy wants to do in the woods.  He had never experienced anything like that.  This was the most surreal and dreamlike, situation he has ever been in.  Giving the man a tight smile he quickly left and tried not to squirm as he felt the officers eyes following him.

 

Greg closed the bottle and looked at the sky.   It was dark but clear, any other time he would've taken the chance to convince Mycroft to spend it with him.  Speaking of which, he probably should call him when he get the chance.  Or signal. 

"Okay Greg you can do this."  Standing up he climbed on the rock and look up, trying to find the moon, making a few mental calculations he smiled and started walking towards his left side.   It was about an hour later when the trees became sparse and he saw a light in the distance.   He decided to follow that light and the closer he came the brighter it became.

He was about a hundred yards from the treeline when his knees went weak.

Through the treeline and moonlight streaks and what he now recognises as a vehicle's lights was the unmistakable silhouette of a man. A tall man warmly dressed with an umbrella.

"Do hurry up Gregory." Mycroft voice travelled through the air. 

Greg smiled, laughing softly as he walked towards Mycroft.   Greg could see Anthea standing a little behind but he didn't care.   Mycroft appeared as if he was in a dreamlike and A grade Hollywood movie, a beacon in the dark.  As Greg appeared Mycroft gave a visible sigh of relief and seeing the absolute delight and happiness on his partner's face he slowly smiled and opened his arms. 

"My!" Greg walked up to Mycroft and before any could respond he wrapped his arms around Mycroft and kissed him. 

When he let go he put his hands on Mycroft's cheeks.

"My hero."

"Hardly."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I know you, and how you think."

"Do you know what I'm thinking now?"

"Yes. So let's get in the car, our room is waiting."

 


	239. Celestial

26\. Celestial

It was perfect.   Sherlock would simultaneously hate and love it.  Greg looks at the little price tag and knew it was good. 

"Excuse me I'd like one of those please."

"Excellent choice sir do you want it wrapped?" The teller was all smiles as if he was the only customer in a week.  He is all for customer service, but please don't be too eager.   Maybe it's just the day he's having. 

"No thank you." He replied as he handed his card over.

With his package safely secured in a beautiful box he made his way over to Baker Street. 

When he reached the door he took a moment to just listen.   Sherlock was playing on the violin, and it sounded extraordinary.   It was beautiful to listen to.  Knowing he can't stay out here on the pavement for too long, he knocked on the door.   Mrs Hudson opened the door and they shared a moment to bask in the sounds coming from upstairs. 

Greg made his way up without trying to hide his footsteps, it won't help, Sherlock would know, probably knew since he was outside. 

"Sherlock?”

"Six minutes and 32 seconds."

"Aww next time I'll try for a full seven."

Sherlock just snorted and turned to Greg, his eyes on the box.

"My birthday is next week."

"And you will make sure I don't see you, you hate celebrating your birthday."

"And yet you bought a present."

"Yes. You'll like it and it will impress John."

"I already impress him" Greg laughed out loud. 

"Yeah. You do. Try not to use the parts for experiments okay? "

Sherlock eyes sparkled.  Greg knew he had him hooked.

"Well are you going to keep it in your arms or actually give it to me?"

Greg took the box and gave it to him. Sherlock held it closely as he walked over to his table and sat down, the box in front of him on the table.  It wasn’t wrapped. 

“Let me know what you think." Greg said as he turned around.  

"What is it?"

"Open and see."

"You'll have to stay if you want to know what I think about it."

Greg knew this was his way of asking him to stay so he did.  He sat down on the sofa while Sherlock opened the box and peeked in. His eyes widen and then he lifted it out. 

"What exactly is it?"

"It's a replica of EV miniatures: moving celestial orreries.  It's to do with science and space."

Greg watch as Sherlock moved the pieces and smiled as the light caught the orbs. After a moment he turned to Greg.

"Want to hear the rest of the symphony?"

"I'll get the tea."

 


	240. Encounter

27\. Encounter

The plan was for Greg to meet Mycroft at the office and then they would go home together. 

It worked out well, Greg got there on time, unfortunately Mycroft's meeting were running a bit late.   An occurrence that hardly ever happen so Greg knew this was either very serious or Mycroft was enjoying the meeting. 

Anthea met him outside of Mycroft's office and led him to a secluded corner where he usually waits.   The coffee and his favourite biscuits is already there and waiting for him.   Smiling he sat down and started going over some emails and all the little stuff that needs doing,  but one never actually has time for.

It was about half an hour later when the door opened.   Greg didn't look in the direction nor showed any indication that he noticed.

"Gregory." Greg turned to Mycroft standing behind him, his face all relaxed and happy.

"Mycroft."

"I'd like to introduce you to the Japanese ambassador."

"Sure." Greg tried to straighten his shirt but gave up when he was face to face with the man. 

"So you are the chosen one?"

"Chosen one?"

"The one who captured Mr. Holmes's heart and soul." Greg was surprised, he didn’t think that Mycroft would tell people about them, especially people in powerful positions.

"Um. Apparently so. To be fair, he did the same to me." He softly added, his eyes locked on Mycroft, he knew it was probably rude,  but he just couldn't look away.

"Ichi-go iche-e." Greg turned to the man.

"I'm sorry; I don't know what it means."

"One time, one meeting."  Mycroft answered as he took hold of Greg's hand.  He still looked confused making the ambassador smile and took his other hand.

"It means an encounter that only happens once in a lifetime, to remind us to treasure every moment as it will never repeat again."

Greg just looked at him, trying to control the trembling of his lips, and the lump in his throat.  The ambassador must have seen the effect it had on Greg as he patted his hand before he let go, turning to Mycroft and saying something only Mycroft could understand.   Mycroft gave a nod and replied and then the ambassador turned around and walked away.

"What did he say?"

"That you're eyes and face cannot hide your heart, which is true and noble and full of love. I told him I know, and that that's the reason I allow myself to be true with you. No masks, no deceit."

"He's one of your friends."

"I don't have friends."

"You do. Me. But anyway, you trust him enough to know about me."

"We have a similar situation and have come a way."

"Ichi-go iche-e." Greg whispered.

"One time, one meeting."

"I'm really happy we were present at our moment."

"Me too."


	241. Thunderstorm

28\. Thunderstorm

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked back at Greg who stood opposite his desk.   They had a bit of a row and Mycroft was trying to convince Greg that they are train wreck waiting to happen. 

"It's quite a wonder it lasted as long as it did Gregory."

"Seven months? It’s not that long."

"The longest I've ever had?" Mycroft softly replied.

"Really?  You're going to be speechless with the one year anniversary celebrations."

"Gregory I'm trying to be serious." Greg walked closer to where Mycroft was standing, and took his hand.

"I know so am I It will be a milestone, considering our personalities and work schedules and...”

"Precisely."

"Exactly." Mycroft was surprised at his answer, if he understood then why is he going on about the relationship? "

"You agree?"

"Absolutely."

"And what is it we are agreeing on?"

"That it will be a milestone when we get to our one year anniversary, and that the celebrations will be amazing."

"I'm trying to explain..."

"You're trying to break up with me and I won't let you.   Your excuses are exactly that, Mycroft,  I know this is hard and for some reason you keep telling me you are unpredictable,  untameable as if you’re a thunderstorm, but you forget one thing."

"And what is that?"

"I love thunderstorms,  ever since I was small,  my grandma use to tell me,  sometimes it have to rain hard, so that we can understand sometimes nature has to scream too, but after wards, the sun shine brighter,  and My the smell! So clean and fresh and the opportunity to dance in the puddles.  Well can't anymore I'm a grown-up and London water is filthy but still."

"You make it sound romantic.”

"You make it sound threatening and destructive."

"I am threatening."

"With that three piece suits! It's like you threaten me to see how fast I can rip it off."

"Gregory."

"Mycroft."

"You're not going to let this go?"

"No."

"Do I have a say in the matter?”

"As long as it's yes."

 


	242. Steam rising

Steam rising

 

Greg was having a really bad day.  There was an accident on the road and try as he might, he couldn’t prevent being late for work.  The fact that it was a Monday didn’t help matters along.  When Greg finally arrived it was nearly an hour after he was supposed to start.  The offices were nearly empty when he realised that he was missing the Monday meeting.

With a few descriptive words he managed to remove his coat, with the minimal spill damage to his take away coffee.  Unfortunately as he rushed to the conference room for the meeting, half of the stack of papers on his desk fell off. 

“Bollocks.”  Not even bothering to pick it up he made it just in time to miss the important stuff, but luckily he did find out that they are having an annual ball and to make it more interesting there will be an auction. 

“Yippee.” Greg groaned along with the others. 

By the time he reached his office to start on paperwork, he had the pleasant surprise of Sherlock and John to question him about his first weekend away with the British Government.

“You’re both alive and well, so the weekend must have been adequate.”

“Yes. Thank you Sherlock, it was a very good weekend and we both enjoyed it.”

“That’s surprising, my brother is boring.”

“Found him exciting and amazing.”

“Something must be wrong.” Sherlock muttered while staring at the papers on the ground.

“You’re attitude for starters.” Greg replied which prompted Sherlock to start going off and John trying to intervene and five minutes later it was a screaming match.

 

When it was time to go home Greg was beyond irritated and frustrated.  He carried himself with slow dreadful strides into his flat when he noticed someone was already inside.

Mycroft.

He was sitting on the sofa, a tray with tea and biscuits on the small table.  Greg’s mood instantly lifted.  He smiled and sat down, taking the other cup.

“Hi.”

“Rough day Gregory?”

"Hmmm." Greg gave as an answer as he sat down next to Mycroft, his body twisted in the seat so he was facing him head on.   
"I'm glad you're here My."  
"Decided to went home early, thought we can order in." Mycroft replied as he lifted his tea cup and gave Greg a small, yet shy smile." Greg instantly relaxed completely and smiled at Mycroft, his eyes sparkling.   
"That's my new favourite thing about you."   
"My ability to leave early for take away?"  
"No. You, and drinking your tea, the steam rising and you smiling like that. it makes me feel that everything will be alright, no matter what, cause your here, I'm here and it's all that matters."


	243. Embrace

30\. . Embrace

The wind was screeching and complaining roughly against the windows and walls of the house, rattling against anything loose it can find and causing chaos and havoc in the world around it. 

The snow accompanying the wind was nearly horizontal instead of diagonal streams from the sky.

"Stay indoors." And "worse storm in years" was being announced across the radios as well as news stations that emphasize the fact with pictures and statistics. 

Greg closed the curtain as Mycroft entered the room. 

"The generator is ready and on standby if needed.   I've also managed to find some lanterns and candles." Mycroft said as he placed the items on the table.  His face and body tense with balled up energy.  Greg smiled as he walked over.

"I've stock the fireplace and got a fire started, and there's some logs packed if we need."

"Thank you.  I'm sorry about this Gregory; it was supposed to be a pleasant weekend away."

"It is a pleasant weekend away.  Don't worry about it.  Also I've placed my phone on charge; maybe you should as well if the power where to go out."

"The generator will be able to give power you know?"

"Yeah well. Being prepared is something I learned from you so..." Greg sheepishly replied.  Mycroft grinned and kissed him gently. 

"I'm glad I was able to teach you something."

"Oh, I’ve learned a lot. "

"That so?"

"Yes.  Also I've got an idea on how to pass the time."

"Please share."

Greg just grinned and took Mycroft's hand.

 

"Gregory this isn't really what I had in mind." Mycroft commented as he turned back to the fire.

"Oi get your head out of the gutter." Greg joked before he went on.

"Anyway what's wrong with this?"

"You've built an actual blanket fort with century old sofa cushions and duvets and blankets, we are drinking wine out of mugs and roasting marshmallows with chopsticks over the fire."

"It's an indoor picnic and you were quite impressed with my blanket fort."

"It's quite extraordinary; you could've been an architect you know. Am I to take it we are going to sleep in it?"

"Yes.  After dinner and all that I will read to you or you to me or we can just you know, embrace the situation and just talk or hold each other, whatever we fancy."

Mycroft stared at Greg uncertain of what to say or how to respond, Greg managed to make a potential dreadful evening into one of the most memorable nights of his life.  He would never have thought he would sleep in a blanket fort in front of the fire, roasting marshmallows and be with the man of his dreams. 

"Gregory..."

"We don't get much time to really spent with each other without interruptions or something, but tonight it's just us and I want to make the most of it."

"Thank you Gregory.  This here tonight I'll treasure forever."


	244. Remember

31\. Remember

"Remember to remember, forget to forget. GL"

Mycroft stared at the text. He read it again, trying to understand what Greg is trying to say.   After several moments of confusion he texted back.

"? MH."

": ) ♡ GL "

"Emoticons?  Really MH?"

"You started it. GL."

"I sent you a punctuation mark.  MH."

"So did I.  I've sent you a colon (not the organ ;)) and a bracket.  GL"

"How old are you? MH."

"Old enough to stay up late with you. GL."

"Detective Inspector. MH."

"Ooo titles.   Got to go, meeting.   See you tonight Mr. Holmes. MH."

Mycroft sighed as he pocketed his phone and get out of the car.  He looked up towards the window above Speedy's, preparing himself for meeting his brother.

By the time he got home he all but forgot about the text Greg send him the morning.  Pouring himself some brandy he looked around his home, it was empty and lonely without the laughter of Greg.  

"One weekend he spent with you and all of a sudden your home is empty without him?" He chastised himself.  Sighing he pick up his phone and dialled.

"Gregory, would it be possible for you to come over?"

 

Two hours later they were in bed, holding each other.

"Why did you call me over?"

Mycroft decided on the truth.

"I missed you in my home, I know we're still new and in the beginning of our relationship and this was the first weekend you spend here, but the truth is I like having you here."

"I missed you too.  Really glad you called."

"What did you meant with that text this morning?"

"Remember to remember, forget to forget?"

"Hmm?

"Remember to remember that I love you, and forget to forget that I love you. It sounds weird and I'm probably not expressing myself right, I just don't want you to forget what you mean to me."

From that day on Greg would always send Mycroft the line. "Remember to remember, forget to forget" and Mycroft would smile and remember. 

 


	245. Fluid

1\. Fluid

Greg's eyes were sparkling and his smile reached new proportions.  

"Since you can read notes this will be much easier to learn." Mycroft said as he sat next to Greg on the wooden bench.

"I know this is much different from guitar but notes are the same right?"

"Yes.  The piece we're starting off is one of your favourites."

"Since I met you my favourites have grown a bit."

"It's Richard Clayderman's Ballad pour Adeline. It's quite short and relatively easy to play."

"Mycroft, thank you for doing this with me." Greg held in to Mycroft’s hand between his.  Mycroft turned to him with a shy smile.

"It's my pleasure Gregory, anytime with you are well spent."

"Also you like teaching me the more sophisticated things in life."

"Teaching you how to play the piano is hardly sophisticated Gregory."

"But this way we can do a due, and when I've mastered this I should teach you how to tackle those guitar strings."

"I think I'll leave the rebellion to you my dearest."

Greg just winked at him in return. 

"Okay Mr. Holmes teaches me the ways of the white and black keys."

Mycroft showed him which note was which and the different sounds it made, Greg was only half paying attention,  his focus was more on Mycroft's beautiful fingers as it moved in beautiful fluid motion from one end to the next.  It was precise, the sound clear and the melody relaxing.

Mycroft broke the silence after some time.

"Gregory put your hands upon mine; let your fingers follow mine."

Gregory laid his hands softly over Mycroft's hands, their fingers moving as one over the keys.

"My, how am I supposed to concentrate when our hands and fingers look so good together?" Mycroft chuckled softly and shook his head. 

"Gregory, you’re impossible."

"Love you too."


	246. Lush

. Lush

"Lush." Mycroft repeated as he stared at Greg.

"Yes."

"Lush?"

"Wow, two times in a row, yes My lush. As in the luxuriant, lavish, succulent."

"I know what it means. It's just no one has ever referred to my garden as lush."

"What did the described it as?" Greg asked with a curious expression, they were standing outside in Mycroft's garden.  They decided that they both needed a weekend away and came to Mycroft's country house.   It was green all around with a thick line of trees surrounding the house, giving the illusion of privacy and seclusion.   On the one side was a vegetable garden and right behind the house was a herb garden.   The smells would mixed and make the whole place feeling calm and relaxed.  Greg loved it, as it made a difference to the brick and stone and the city smell he was used to.  

"They usually used words such as, well-designed or effective and environmental friendly."

"Hmm. I prefer green and lush.  It's a wonderful garden; do you spend a lot of time here?"

Greg walked towards the treeline, his feet sinking in the thick and soft grass.

Mycroft followed. "I try to get a weekend or two in, every now and then."

"When the city becomes a bit claustrophobic or when work gets a bit too much?" Greg asked.

"Both."

"I love it My, thank you for bringing me here and sharing this with me."

"You're welcome."

"Hey can we have a picnic here outside?"

"Anything you'd like."

"Ah a picnic with my awesome boyfriend in his lush garden, wonder if we'll exchange old Victorian fables under the trees."

"Funny. Boyfriend?"

"Partner?"

"Sounds agreeable."

 


	247. Whisper

3.. Whisper

Greg was still smiling as he walked back to his office, the morning events still fresh in his mind.  The past few weeks have improved his mental state and happiness to new levels. 

He was in a good relationship, Sherlock was back and causing havoc like always and he had the pleasant surprise this morning of seeing the Consulting Detective and his blogger highly hungover and unsteady on their feet. 

Ah good times.

As he entered his office his phone rang.

"Hi Love."

"I think my brother is on to us."

"How so?"

"You're attitude this morning."

"Huh? I was happy, squared things off with the desk sergeant and I may have showed a little insensitivity towards their mental state."

"'Not really' when John apparently asked on whether you could whisper. Then you laughed and called them a couple of lightweights."

"How's that revealing to Sherlock?"

"For starters, you were happy even though you weren't invited; secondly you had no problems with their inebriated state and didn't even mention the bachelor party for two. You were up early, had good coffee and are in a very happy mood.  Sherlock would deduce something is different and most likely a new relationship."

Greg laughed as he listened to Mycroft.

"Well you do have awesome coffee, and make me very happy, and I'm always in a happy mood waking up to you.  Also I didn't care that I wasn't invited as I got to spend the evening with you."

"I'm glad.   You make me happy too, it's only a matter of time before Sherlock finds out."

"Maybe we should just tell him?"

"I'm uncertain of his reaction."

"Love, he won't try to get between us, he might actually be happy for you."

"I love your optimism."

"I love your everything, listen let's discuss it tonight and we can make a decision then."

"Fine.   Dinner at home?"

"Definitely.  Have a good day Love."

"You too Gregory."


	248. Look up

4\. Look up

 

Some cases are harder than others, some you do and you solve it and moved on. Other cases are like a icy, winter's howling wind, regardless of how many layers of clothes you have, it still rips through them all into your skin and bones and freeze you to the core.  For Greg it varies, one time it can be a case involving children, drug addicts, happy family or even homeless people.  

Every case has something that tore a piece of him into shreds; it's just the level of shreds that changes. 

Today was one of those days, it started out as a simple murder case, but then little by little the icy howling wind cut through him and now he is left more cold and desolate than he was at the beginning of the case. 

Greg didn't forget to acknowledge the small mercy that Sherlock wasn't involved with the case, the shreds would've been so much more than bones, a little part of his soul might have been destroyed as well. 

He was tired, and deep down knows it's not from a lack of sleep, although he can do with a few days of uninterrupted sleep.   With slow and weary moves he put his things away for the day and got ready to go home.  

By the time he reached his flat he was very sluggish and not paying attention to anything around him.  He closed his front door and sagged against the wood, his eyes closed.

"Gregory." A soft whisper met him.  Greg opened his eyes, still looking down but at least acknowledged the presence of another person in his home.

"Hmm."

"Look up." Greg took a breath and lifted his eyes from the floor.   Mycroft was standing there in the most comfortable clothes, take away on the small coffee table and a blanket on the sofa,  he was waiting for Greg,  his arms open all Greg had to do was walk into his embrace.  Which he did, he kicked off his shoes, and slid off his coat and for the first time that day walked with steady steps right into Mycroft's arms. 

 


	249. To love is. . .

5\. To love is

556.

"Or thereabouts." Greg mumbled to himself as he stood in front of row upon row of red and pink themed cards.   Overhead red heart balloons were hanging down pink and silver and red strings.   High enough for all to see but not high enough to touched with your arms.

"Well  Sherlock might be,  Mycroft definitely."

Looking around at a passing girl he quickly gave her a disarming smile.  It won't do for a grey copper to talk to himself out loud in a aisle with valentine and romantic cards.

He did a quick estimated guess on how many cards there actually was and the total was about 556.

Bonus was none of them was for a man to another man.  Brilliant. 

Then again he's not sure he wants to give Mycroft a mass produced card decorated in roses and little cursive words.  He picked up two and pulled a face.

This won't do.

He took out his phone. 

"Gregory?"

"Hi Love, tell me which one you'd like."

"Like?"

"Valentine is around the corner and I was thinking of getting you a valentine's card."

"I don't want one."

"It's tradition."

"I rather have you."

"Oh you will, but doesn’t side-track me here which one sounds corny enough that would make you fall at my feet in surrender: ‘Love is to compliment her on her form in jeans.’ Or ‘love is sharing the last hot chocolate.’  Good God, these are horrendous.”

“Gregory, I think I just had an explosion of noise in my ear.”

“Funny.”

“None of these will make me fall at your feet in surrender, I do not wear jeans, I don’t drink hot chocolate and most certainly not red heart cards.”

“Yeah I hear you.  Wait I know.”

“Know what?”

“You’ll see.”

“Gregory.”

“Don’t worry Love. Trust me.”  Greg quickly hangs up and walked away.  He knows what to do; to love someone, really love them is knowing it’s the little things that count.  He knows how to make Mycroft’s day special.  Being with him is a valentine’s day every day.

 


	250. Starry night

6\. Starry night

This was one time where Mycroft didn’t have a comeback or a plan.  His eyes followed the mess around him, the chair was bending and lying against the pillar, Greg was sitting on top a man, reading him his rights and putting his hands in cuffs.  It was quite a sight to see him in action.

When Greg finally looked up, Mycroft groaned inwardly, Greg was happy, no chuffed, or smug beyond compare.

“So is that how you conduct all your warehouse interviews?”  Greg was still grouched down, but was clearly comfortable on top of the man underneath him, who was wriggling to get free.  He looked down.

“Where do you want to go?  Are you going to sail away on your stomach?”  The man ignored him and still tried to get away.  Greg rolled his eyes at Mycroft and stood up his hands in a gesture as to say ‘well go on sail away.’  Mycroft thought it fascinating. 

“Gregory, we’ve been meeting for months, this is the first time we were so rudely interrupted.”

“True, so you know this intruder?” 

“Unfortunately I can’t divulge that information.”  Greg nodded, his face serious, but his eyes sparkling.

“True.  Intruders in the traffic department, he might be here to fine you for going over the speed limit.”

“As you say.”

“Can I arrest him?”

“You just did, or do you just put cuffs on every intruder you see?”

“Depends on the intruder, but I see your point.  Should I book him?”

“No.  This has just been a misunderstanding.”

They stood there in the warehouse, looking at each other when the door opened and Anthea and several men in black suits came in.  Gregory stepped back to one side and just observed as Mycroft dealt with it.  It took them less than five minutes to take the man and disappear as though no one where there.  Anthea stayed behind next to the car that Greg came in.  Greg picked up the now useless chair.

“Sorry about the chair.” Mycroft waved his hand.

“It’s nothing.  We should go.”

“You know Mycroft, now that we don’t have chairs and our lovely meeting place has been spoiled, maybe we should try a café next time, might be safer for you.”

“Perhaps.”

“Brilliant, someplace nice, with good coffee, yeah.  Ah this is how legends are born.”

“With coffee?”

“No.” Greg lowered his voice as if he is beginning telling a story, his hands waving through the air.

“It all began, a long time ago, on a starry night, a ninja on the side, hidden in the shadow, the mystery man in his black sleek unmarked car, perhaps a carriage as if in a myth…”

“Remarkable, how old are you again Inspector?”

“What’s wrong with my story?  I thought it was a good beginning.”

“Shouldn’t you start with ‘once upon a time’?”

“That’s fairy tales, not legends.  Keep up.”


	251. Unwind

7\. Unwind

As far as first meetings went, this is the first time Mycroft saw the opponent calm and relaxed.   Mycroft indicated towards the chair opposite the small table whereas some fruit and nuts were laid out, the man smiled and sat down, taking one of the strawberries.

In hindsight, that was the first clue that he was dealing with a man of a different calibre.  Nevertheless, the Detective he had last week took the money and he will have this man in his pocket as well.  

Interesting to note that he may very well be close to have the whole Scotland Yard under his thumb and payroll.   Could come in handy.

"You are?"

The man's gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts and Mycroft frowned.   That wasn't supposed to happen.  He sat down.

"An interesting party."

"Interested in what?”

"Sherlock Holmes." The man's posture changed, he went from relaxed to rigid but still maintaining an aura of calm.

‘Fascinating.’

"I'm listening."

Mycroft went on to explain and even took out his cheque book ready to write an amount, which he did.  When he was done he handed the paper to the man who took it.

He whistled when he saw the numbers and all the neatly scrawled zeros.

"Trapped."  Mycroft congratulated himself on another man in his pocket.

"That's an impressive handwriting you got, so neat and cursive. Wow.  Mine is a messy scribble and crazy short hand from writing fast and on the go.  This is nice.

"Wait what?”  Mycroft was confused; the man complimented his handwriting instead of the money?

"Let me get this straight...."  The man continued and while he talked he was folding the paper in some kind of origami.   When he was done he stood up, Mycroft followed.  He walked over to Mycroft and Mycroft wanted to take a step back by the hidden anger and fury in the man’s eyes.

"Listen here mate, I don't care who or what you are, but you stay away from Sherlock, everything he may have done or owe you is in the past, I’m a detective Inspector with the Yard as you know and he is under my protection.  So if you lack some emotions here have a heart, just fold it so it's brand spanking new.  Take a heart and unwind some of this obvious desire for dramatics and suspense.  I'm not for sale, neither is Sherlock.  As compensation I will take that lovely bowl of fruit and nuts as I'm starving.   See you around.  By the way, I can find the exit myself." With that he picks up the bowl and walked out the warehouse.   Mycroft was standing straight and in shock.  That didn't go according to any of his plans or calculations he looked at the folded heart that once were a cheque.

"Sir?” He turned to Anthea.  

"I think Sherlock may just found an ally."

"The detective?"

"Inspector Gregory Lestrade. What is fascinating man?  I think my dear, I should follow him and introduce myself, and after all, the bowl is part of a set."

 


	252. Heart strings

8\. Heart strings

 

Greg was bored.  In truth he just didn’t want to deal with Sally and Anderson and the whole high school drama of his workplace so he is at Bart’s.  Molly is busy with a autopsy and Greg was sitting a few feet away, watching her.

“Tell me again why you want to see me doing an autopsy.”  Molly askes as she removed the heart, so efficient and without any grimace that Greg was impressed. 

“Well I wasn’t in the mood for the theatrics at work and you have always been a calming and steady influence and value your company much more than the Yard’s.”

She stopped and turned to him.

“Thank you Greg.’’

“you’re welcome.”

It was quiet for a while she worked and Greg just observing.  Molly was close to finishing up when he spoke up again.

“So how did he die?”

“Broken Heart Syndrome.”

“He died from a broken heart?”

“Come look here.”  She indicated to the steel table where the heart was as he stepped closer she cut the heart in half.  Greg looked mesmerized.

Molly picked up a magnifying glass and pointed to something.

“Look there.  That is the tendons inside a heart, also known as the heart strings sometimes a really big emotional shock can literally cause the tendons to tear or even break, causing the heart to lose form, which in turns disable the hearts ability to pump blood.  As a result you can die.”

“You basically die of a broken heart?”

“Yes.”

Greg didn’t reply instead he just stared at the little organ on the table, now just a bloody, muscle mess. 

“Mols, can I take a picture?”

“Um okay, I guess it be okay.”

“Thank you.”  He quickly took a picture.”

Molly was looking at him in confusion. Greg gave a tiny smile.

“One organ, one heartbreak and it’s all over.  We are actually such a fragile race aren’t we?”

 


	253. Sacrifice

9.. Sacrifice

 

Greg walked out of the office, his shoulders a bit slumped and his heart more heavily than the weighty steps of his feet.  Another sacrifice.  Without turning to go back to his office he just went home.  Paper work can wait. Everything can wait.

He decided on a walk instead of just going home, he knew he would just go home and sits in a couch feeling sorry for him or go to a pub and drink.  The walk seems like a good compromise.  He walked all along the River, bridge to bridge street to street.  When he got tired he sat down, his eyes following various people and their lives. 

A woman walking her dog, stopping every few minutes to smell something, her smile wide.

Across the street a man is training for some sport event as he stretched and checking his watch while monitoring his pulse, full exercise gear.

A man is on his laptop and phone in deep concentration, he looked like a business man, trying to win a deal or contract.

This is what he loves to do, be here in the street next to people, helping them.  He sees some of these people on the worst die of their lives, either dead, or informing them of a loved one’s death. Sometimes even arresting them for ruining someone else’s life.

In the end it was worth it.  So what if he turned down a promotion.  Yes the extra money would be amazing and come in handy; yes the better hours would make him get to go home at a reasonable time.  More responsible that he is more than capable of handling, however it would mean less time in the field so to speak.  The field of London streets. 

The biggest reason he said no, was that he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time working with Sherlock. Less cases, more boredom and in turn the man just might go back to the drugs.  No other detective wanted to work with the Consulting Detective so Greg’s hands is tied.

Maybe one day the sacrifice would be worth it, and he can take another shot at that promotion. But not today.  No today he chooses Sherlock. 

 


	254. We keep growing

10\. We keep growing

Greg refused to see anyone.  No visitors.  He knows that his friends at the Yard will be confused and surprised but he didn't care.  Sherlock won't even bother to visit him in hospital so he won't even know about his request.   He had no family close by and no real friends so he had nothing to worry about there. 

John will be a bit surprised, but he will respect it and see it from a doctor's point of view and won't take offence.

After all it's not every day that you might be permanently mute due to an accident.

Greg clenched his fists; he was beyond angry, so far he threw a chair, pushed a doctor against the wall and ripped a sheet.  The whole time the doctor and nurses was looking at him in pity throwing words such as “we are sorry" or "it might not be permanent" at him and he didn't want to hear it. He opens his mouth but not a sound is coming out.   There never might be.  

He might never hear his laugh when he and John go out for pints, he might never call Sherlock and try to convince him to take a case or actually he might never speak to him again.  

They want him to see a psychologist, he might become depressed.   He snorted.   "Who wouldn't when you lose one of your senses?" Greg closed his eyes, he said that out loud, but no sound came out. 

Luckily his room was private and with a request for no visitors he was left alone.  Perfect.   He didn't bother to shave and decided to spend his lonely days in the bed looking out the window.  

The door opened but he didn't bother to acknowledge the person, most likely a nurse bringing medicine or lunch or something.   That is until he heard the unmistakable sounds of steps followed by a clap sound.   He closed his eyes.

"It won't help Gregory, I know you're awake."  Mycroft.   Greg felt like crying, of all the people in his life Mycroft is the last one he wanted to see while weak.  He kept his eyes close as he felt a soft and warm hand on his cheek.   The touch left his cheek to run through his hair and down to his stubble.

"Interesting that your stubble is the same molten silver as your hair, so beautiful." Greg grabbed the hand and opened his eyes; the brown eyes broke in the blue storm of Mycroft's, filled with love and trust.  No pity.  His mouth formed the Mycroft's name, but no sound came out.   Mycroft instead just pulled him close and held him. 

When he finally let go, he turned to Greg.

"No visitors? You should now by know that that won't keep Sherlock or John away and most certainly not me.  Personally I thought it a challenge which I wholeheartedly accepted." Greg gave a small grin, while waving his one hand.

"Also you should now that as much as Sherlock and myself have evolved over the years with you and John and we keep growing in the social skill department that we most certainly will not let an opportunity to help you pass us by. You mean to much to both of us." Greg’s face mimics the obvious doubt and disbelief because Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"Don't give me that negativity Gregory.  I've already contacted the world's leading surgeons and doctors who deals with this types of accidents and John and Sherlock are outside waiting for me to give the go ahead for them to come in, so put on your best smile and let us in. Understood?"

Greg was taken by surprise and could only nod as Mycroft smiled and turned to the door, waving the others in.   He smiled as the door opened and Sherlock and John unmistakable steps followed John grabbed his medical chart and Sherlock looked over his shoulder as they both read.  For the first time since the accident Greg allowed himself the small sliver of hope.  

 


	255. Preparation

11\. Preparation

 

Greg watch as Sherlock was loaded onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.   It was his fault.  He said yes to Sherlock being in on the raid.  He also said yes that Sherlock being involved in the case and now Sherlock was hurt and on his way to the hospital.  One thing Greg was glad for was that it wasn't serious, a cracked rib and a broken arm.   Could've been much worse. 

 

He should’ve known that Sherlock wouldn't stay back and only listen to the orders he gave,  oh no, he knew better and knew more so he ignored Greg's orders and went in first. 

 

Greg groaned, the paperwork alone was going to be a nightmare and know he had to find a way somehow to cover Sherlock's involvement or at least make it feasible. 

 

As the ambulance doors closed his eyes caught the sleek black car and the man standing next to it. 

 

"Oh Bollocks."  Mycroft.  How on earth is he going to explain the event to Sherlock's overbearing and over protective brother? Taking a deep breath he squared his shoulders and started walking towards the car. 

 

There’s not enough preparation in the world for this conversation.  The only thing he can do was to be honest and clear; Mycroft would read every emotion and thought anyhow.    Without trying to hide the emotions on his face he walked until he stood opposite Mycroft.

 

"Mycroft."

 

"Gregory."

 

"Listen."

 

"Please don't."

 

"What?"

 

"It wasn't your fault.  We both know Sherlock by now."

 

"Still.  He's my responsibility."

 

"Actually his mine."

 

"Not out there in raid. Bloody hell we're like parents trying to protect the only child."

 

"And we both failed." Mycroft replied. Greg frowned.

 

"No we didn't.  Tonight may have been a hiccup, I’ll admit, but we didn't fail."

 

"I wish I can have your confidence."

 

"How about I'll have it for the both of us and you can have brains?"

 

"A willing compromise."

 

"Good. Heavens knows how he keeps us on our toes."

 

"Indeed.   Can I offer you a lift to the hospital? "

 

"No. It's okay, I need to finish up here and then I'll meet you there."

 

"Bacon sandwich and black coffee, like last time."

 

"Only if you're having."

 


	256. Hold tight

12\. Hold tight

Greg noticed it first it was subtle but still noticeable.

"Anthea, are the car going faster?" He asked as he tried to look out the window. Anthea immediately stopped what she was doing on her phone and looked out the window as well.

Her face gave away her worry away as she looked at Greg. 

"Do you have any idea whether we are being chased or being followed?"

She shook her head. 

"Not yet." Pressing a button the glass separating them from the driver went down.

"Status?"  Her voice sliced through the air.

"Two black cars, pursuing." The driver replied.  She gave a curse and tried to look out over Greg's shoulder.

Greg who tried that but knew it was futile leaned over to the driver.

"Any idea about whether they just want to pursue or do they actually have other ideas." The driver looked in the mirror towards Anthea, waiting for the confirmation that he could answer.  She nodded.

"Kidnapping most likely sir."

But they probably know Mycroft isn't in the car." Greg answered as he tried to tighten his grip as they accelerated.   He could hear the horns of bypassing cars.

"Doesn't matter, an attack on us is an attack on him." Anthea answered as she pressed a button on her phone and dialled.

"We've been compromised.  Chased by two unidentified cars."

"Is that Mycroft?" Greg asked as he leaned forward.  She nodded. 

She listened as he replied responding to whatever he's saying, Greg took the opportunity to look out at the front window, the driver was good, very good.   Greg turned his head and saw one of the cars managed to get next to them. 

He got a look at the driver and turned to Anthea.

"Tell Mycroft the driver is European, black hair with a moustache and beard if it helps.   about six feet and..." he turned back to the car and saw him pulling out a gun.

"...and is about to shoot."  Without thinking Greg grabbed Anthea's laptop and held it next to the driver just as the window shattered and a bullet hit the laptop.  Greg watched the man aim for the engine, and knowing they are very close to crash he dropped the laptop and removed his coat.

"Anthea come here!" He ordered and without waiting for he wrapped his coat around her.

"What are you doing?"

"Where about to crash, you need to be safe for Mycroft."

"How's wrapping me in your coat going to help?"

"Shattered glass, and I don’t know just hold tight onto me!"   With that he pushed her on the floor and lay on top of her protecting her with his body. Mycroft was still on the phone and was listening to the whole ordeal, he heard the shots and then he heard the unmistakable sounds of metal screeching and shattered glass and then silence, broken by a horn.

Mycroft waited at the hospital, he knew it would be too dangerous to go to the accident.   They were brought in about half an hour ago, the most injuries sustained by his driver and Gregory who saved both the driver and Anthea's life.   Anthea told him what Greg did with her laptop and how he threw his coat around her and protected her with his body.  

She didn't have a scratch on her, will only have a few bruises.  The driver has multiple injuries and Greg had a few scratches and will be sore for a few days.  He suffered a concussion as well and this is where Anthea found him. She brought him something to eat and coffee, in her other hand was a bag with snacks and juice and crisps. Mycroft watched her as she unpack the food on the table next to Greg's bed.  Sitting opposite him she pulled out her phone.  Mycroft knew Greg just earned the respect and protection of Anthea, in their line, people are paid to protect them, yet this is the first time someone did it, because that is who they are.  Greg didn't do it because of who she was, or the driver, he did it because it's who he is.  Remarkable.

 


	257. Let go

13\. Let go.

The rain was heavy and unrelenting, the past few days there was a heat wave in London and then finally this afternoon it broke with the long anticipated rain.

The clock said it was just after four in the afternoon and Greg stood in the middle of Epping Forest Park. They found a body next to the pond underneath a tree.  

By the looks of the man he was a regular jogger who either had a heart attack or was poisoned. 

His money was on poison. 

He watched diligently as his team did their jobs after all this time they were synchronised and able to work as a well-oiled machine.  He was proud,  a small part of him a little nostalgic, as these days he gets a few moments were he realised that as much as he'd like he can't always stay in the field,  sooner or later he has to let go and get a job behind a desk.  Unfortunately that is just how it works.  He loves the field, no denying that but a little part of him would relish the opportunity to have more responsibility and more authority. 

'Sherlock would love that.' He thought with a smile, more cases and more opportunity to put his head in.

"We are all done." Sally's voice cut through his thoughts.  He smiled and nodded. 

"Yeah let's go. This rain is something fierce."  They walked back towards the car when Greg stopped. 

"Go on Donovan, I’ll meet you back at the station." Sally frowned but went on without him; he stood still and just took a moment. 

Smiling he lowered his umbrella and stretched out his arms as the rain fell on him.   He lifted his head and allowed himself to become completely soaked through. 

Just a second he thought, a second to just relish the rain and the heatwave that passed.  He'll go back to the station, have a quick shower and continue with the case. 

 


	258. Life is. . .

14\. Life is...

 

"Life is short what a load of rubbish."  Mycroft's eyes snapped towards the man at the edge of the bed.   From the looks of it he has been sitting there for a while now.   Without thinking he stepped closer, letting his umbrella rest against the edge of the hospital bed. 

"Pardon?"  He managed to ask without sounding too surprised. 

"They usually say that life is short and in the great scheme of life and universe it is, but then again it's actually the longest thing you'll ever do. The longest you'll ever be a part of this world.  Nothing will last longer than the time you as a particular person will walk on this earth." The man answered,  who turned to Mycroft and stood up.

"Ignore me and my silly ramblings, been a long day."

"Gregory, I can never ignore the insight you so freely give, how’s Sherlock?"

"Calm now, the drugs are out of his system but it still knocked him out, probably wake in the early morning hours."

"So we just wait."

"Yup.  Do you think he is aware of the nerve wracking ordeal he is putting us through?” Greg asked as he sat back down.   Mycroft taking the seat opposite the bed from where Greg is.

"I wouldn't be able to tell you. However I did arrange for some coffee and a few sandwiches to be brought here.  Am I right in assuming you haven't eaten since this morning? "

"You know you are, it Anthea with that amazing coffee she brought last time?"

"Yes."

"Nice.  Now that's what I call coffee by the way."

"I'm glad I can be of service."

"So another long wait, how was your day going before this happened?"

Anthea found them an hour later with clothes for Sherlock, files for Mycroft and coffee and sandwiches for both of them, because regardless for the situation and life is worth knowing you're not alone, no matter how hard you believe it.

 


	259. Slow dance

15\. Slow dance 

Greg and Mycroft stared at one another.  Around them the unmistakable sounds of life continued, red and blue lights were illuminating the dark night around them. The police and forensic teams acted as extras as if in a movie scene, providing credibility to the action around them.  Sherlock and John we're walking away into the sunset -even though it was nearing midnight - giggling and making plans to get Chinese.  

Behind Greg was the most activity, a perfect contrast to the dark and silence behind Mycroft, the sleek black car reflecting the police lights. 

Sooner or later this slow dance of them will either stop or turn into another song.  Greg was the first to move, he took a step forward and Mycroft relaxed his posture.   Greg smiled and Mycroft raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. 

Greg took another step closer and Mycroft smiled.   With every slow step Greg took towards Mycroft, Mycroft steadily welcomed him into his space.  

Greg stopped as he was less than feet away, his personal space being surrounded with Mycroft's space and together the bubble expanded around them.

"Mycroft."

"Gregory."

"I think we've danced enough around each other don’t you?”

"Indeed."

"And?"

"I think it's only fair to warn you that as my partner I will spoil you and improve your wardrobe."

"As your partner I will kiss you every time I see you and will send you a good morning and good night message every day if I'm not seeing you at that times."

"Acceptable terms."

It was quiet as they stood there.   Greg spoke first.

"So we're together?"

"Yes."

"Exclusive, I don't share."

"Naturally."

Another few minutes passed this time Mycroft broke the silence, he slowly took hold of Greg's hand.

"Can I take you home?"

"You can take me to my house, I just arrived home."

 


	260. Handful of light

Handful of light

It was still quiet and dark, the dawn just starting to break the night sky in the distance.

There was the normal eerie silence around everything as if the knowledge was well known that the new day is coming and with it all the new noises and hustle. 

Greg was tired, weary and soul tired, his knuckles were bruised and he could feel the shiner beginning to colour his face. 

Behind him he could hear John and Sherlock making their way outside towards him.  It was a hectic day, or more precisely, night. 

The call came late, Mycroft car was found abandoned, Anthea called him personally and first before Sherlock.  They still managed to arrive at the same time. 

It was a trap; they found the driver unconscious and tied in the boot of the car, no Mycroft. 

This was the first time Greg saw the level of concern and worries the Holmes brothers had and he finally understood the importance Mycroft placed in Sherlock.  It was more than just brotherly love, Sherlock are capable of many things and Greg is very thankful that Sherlock is on their side.  

They found Mycroft gagged and bound without his ever present umbrella or suit jacket.   His arms were tied above him on a chain, his feet barely touching the ground.  His white sleeves were ripped and the waistcoat was missing a few buttons.  Greg went crazy and John had to work overtime to keep both of them under control.  Sherlock found the two men who watched over Mycroft and he and Greg pretty much beat them up.  They are alive but won't race any races today.  Or tomorrow.

His fingers craved a cigarette and he flexed his hand. 

"Gregory?" A soft voice filtered through his mind and he turned his head to see the hand full of the dawning morning light handing him a cigarette through the darkness of the warehouse.  He turned his body and watched as Mycroft slowly stepped closer the light catching the rest of him.

Greg felt his heart breaking; Mycroft looked unsure and a little bit unsteady.  Greg took the cigarette and put it his shirt pockets, then he took both of Mycroft's hands in his.

"Anthea?"

"Dealing with all this."

Greg nodded and then looks at John taking care of Sherlock's knuckles and the split lips, they were two steps behind Mycroft, Sherlock watching his brother. 

Greg turned back to Mycroft.

"I'm taking you home, I'm going to take care of you, and hold you, so close."

"Can't wait."

There was still so many things left to say,  an so many questions that needed to be answered,  but right now in this moment it all could wait as Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft and Mycroft allowed himself to melt in Greg’s embrace.


	261. Look back

17\. Look back

 

The headlines were big and bold. The whispers in the hallways and underground louder than the scream of innocence.

"DETECTIVE INSPECTER LESTRADE ARRESTED FOR BRUTAL MURDER."

Sherlock and John were in Scotland for a case, neither answering their phone when Greg called. 

Mycroft was somewhere in the northern or southern part of the hemisphere and unaware of what was happening back in the UK.

When Greg had a moment to look back at the turn of events he knew that it was planned and deliberate.   The perfect opportunity to strike. 

The last thing he remembered was that he was home, the next he woke up on his living room rug, covered in blood and a dead women in his bed.

He was late for work and a co-worker was sent to check up on him.  Found him on the floor passed out.

His fingerprints we're on the murder weapon, his kitchen knife, covered in her blood and well, the evidence is pretty much condemning. 

In his state he tried to call Sherlock and John, and in a last attempt Mycroft.   No one answered.  

He was arrested immediately, suspended from duty and taken into custody without in haste.

He wasn't even allowed to take clean clothes as they processed him.

His wallet and phone was taken into evidence along with his clothes, leaving him in the standard jail uniform.  

Sally thankfully did allow a full blood and screen test, but he wasn't hopeful.  It would either be out of his system or his test results will be altered. 

He was left in his own cell, being a cop amongst the other inmates being a bit too risky for this high profile case. 

Greg sighed.  Of Sherlock can't help him, he is pretty much toasted. 

Then again he might pretty much be a goner either way as it's been two days and no help has arrived and he has been subjected to multiple and long interviews. 

He was not sure how to feel, and had some kind of breakdown.   It was on the third day that his body went into limbo and he became distant and unresponsive.  He hasn't eaten since the night and hardly drank anything.  

On the fourth day he was admitted to a psychiatric hospital and placed under 24hr surveillance and suicide watch.

On the fifth day Mycroft was finally able to communicate to the outside world and became worried when he couldn't get hold of Gregory.  An hour later he was informed of what had happened and rushed back to London, calling all resources and his brother back.

This wasn't a game, this was personal. 

 

 


	262. Constellations

18\. Constellations

Mycroft's eyes were immediately drawn to the slight bent in Greg’s posture as he entered the office. However Sherlock beat him to it.

"Fun weekend Lestrade?"

"Why yes thank you Sherlock for your concern it was quite acceptable." Greg answered with a dead serious face as, the sarcasm extra strong this morning. 

"So played too much football?"

"Yup.  That's what happened." Greg replied as he handed the necessary case files to him.  Mycroft added his case file to Sherlock as well.

"So a big case and I have too Holmes's to help.  Brilliant."  Greg said with a smile as he picked up the take away Mycroft handed him. They shared a moment as Greg just held his hand.   The moment was broken when Sherlock threw the file towards their hands and Greg had to let go as to try and save the rest of his coffee.  Both Greg and Mycroft just smiling at Sherlock’s antics, unperturbed to Sherlock’s antics.

"I don't know why you insist on being here, checking on your boyfriend?" Sherlock asked as he watched his brother.

"I was hoping for checking out." Greg mumbled as he took a bite of his croissant.   Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored him, while Mycroft looked smug.

"When the two of you are done with your little show, we have a murderer to catch and let's hope Graham keeps up as he obviously tried to be young while playing with his nieces and nephews."

"Yeah. Wrestling isn’t what it used to be."  Greg replied.   Sherlock turned around.

"Maybe it was when you go fell out the bed and hit your sides." Greg smirked.

"Got use to your brother's bed, misjudged the angle."

Sherlock stared nonplussed as he looked down at Greg.

"What did you do?"

"Fun weekend filled with football and wrestling and falling out of beds." Sherlock just groaned and left the office.   Mycroft slowly walked closer and pulled Greg up.

"You visited your family and let me guess reminisce of the good old youthful times and then your sister and you did something crazy to prove you’re still young and hip."

Greg gave a cheeky smile.

"We got tattoos." Mycroft blinked. 

"You what?"

"My sis and I, we got tattoos." As he talked he unbuttoned his shirt and turned as to hide from view.   Mycroft watched as he pulled his shirt on his left side and there on his side next to his heart was white cotton being tied down with plaster. Mycroft lifted his fingers and pulled it away.  And then he stared.

"Gregory did you tattooed yourself freckles?"

"No. Look closer."

"It's dots."

"Its stars My."

"You got a tattoo of a constellation."

"Plural.  Constellations.:

"What kind."

"Our star signs."

"Star signs?"

"Look that one is yours and it's interwoven with mine."

"Why?"

"Cause I wanted something meaningful and to prove something."

"Gregory."

"Whenever you doubt us or think it won't work you need to look at this and know we're meant to be."

"How is a tattoo going to prove it?"

"Because love.  It's written in the stars."

 


	263. Inside me

19\. inside me

Greg sat hunched over one of the scattered chairs, holding a tablecloth to his shoulder to stem the bleeding.  His eyes kept drifting to Mycroft trying to uphold the peace of the restaurant.  He was standing and talking with the manager and from where Greg was sitting, Mycroft was excelling in the placating business.  Everything in Greg wanted to laugh but he couldn't.   This was the time to be a serious police officer, and the pain in his side was killing him.  A small part of him can still feel Mycroft’s as he put the cloth on the cut and took Greg’s hand and put it there. He was going to require a few stitches.  

His eyes followed Mycroft's silhouette as he stood and took control of the situation and dealing with his guests.  He looked amazing, this is the first time he could take a moment and actually appreciate the Holmes form from this close. 

Greg attention was brought back when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder.  He turned to find Sally crouching down.

"The ambulance is here, come on."

He nodded and stood up taking care as to step between the shards.  He followed Sally towards the ambulance where one of the attendees helped him inside.

"Detective Inspector."  Greg turned to the voice.   Mycroft was watching him and the bloodstained cloth.

"This certainly has been an eventful evening."

"Mycroft.  Yeah... Sorry about the interruption."

"You chased a murder suspect, who ran and tried to escape in a restaurant, you tackled him in - according to witnesses - a very spectacular and exuberant tackle worthy of note and in the process knocked over a table and crashed into the glassware table.  With that you injured yourself with a few shards."

"A few?  I think I have glass inside me.  Hey do you think I’m going to turn into a Marvel of DC superhero?”

“A Marvel what?”

“Never mind, if I am ill need to keep my identity secret.”

Mycroft looked around and gave a nod then he climbed in the ambulance.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you are taken care of,  sounds like you might have a concussion.”  Greg just gave a small chuckle and tried to give him enough room

"I'm sorry for ruining your evening and messing the restaurant, and leaving you with damage control."

"Think nothing of it, you've certainly helped me and Sherlock in the past, least I could do was to be helpful as well."

"Still.  Sorry about your guests and evening.  What a coincidence that you were at the same restaurant as my suspect."

"Hmm.  To be honest it was a boring work dinner."

"Could we get dinner, I’m starving."

"I'll make arrangements."

"Thank you."

“You know Mycroft, if I am concussed ill need someone to stay with me, share the dinner?”

 


	264. Unexpected kindness

20\. Unexpected kindness 

Greg sat on the train, his mind just going over the facts for the day, replaying the important parts and making mental notes what to remember for which case, when the silence was broken by a loud wailing scream.   He turned to his side; a woman was trying to feed her baby while at the same time trying to get her oldest to open his new book.   It was a children's set in a little carry case.  

He watched her struggle with the milk bottle while holding the baby and telling her son to wait.  

Greg looked around the rest of the train car and noticed it was just them. Without a second thought he stood up and walked over to her.

"Excuse me ma'am." The woman startled and held her baby closer.

Greg lifted his arms in surrender.

"My name is Gregory Lestrade; I’m a detective Inspector with Scotland Yard.   I mean no harm."

"What do you want?" She relaxed slightly but he could still see she was scared and by sound of her accent, from either Poland or the Ukraine.

"I was wondering if it be okay if I offer you some help?"

"Help?"  She asked.

Greg nodded.

"I don't mean to intrude, but I saw you struggling and was hoping I could help your boy by opening his book so you can feed your baby?" As he talked he took out his identification.

"See it's real and I'll even let you hold it." The women reach out to take his id but the boy saw the badge and grabbed it first. 

"Policja?" He asked and Greg smiled.

"Yes."

He looked to the women and indicated to the open seat. She gave a nod.   As Greg sat down the boy turned to him.

"You police men?"

"I am. Detective. Can I help you with your book?" The boy nodded and Greg quickly unwrapped the plastic covering so he could open the case and get his first book. 

The woman relaxed more as she fed the baby and talked to Greg.   Greg sat next to them for the whole ride and entertained the boy, he found out their names, where they lived and that the boy enjoyed school.     

When the train stopped at his stop he got up and said goodbye, he also gave the woman his card.

"If you ever need help, call me."

The woman held the card to her close as she replied.

"Thank you, your kindness was unexpected, but much appreciated."

"You're welcome." Greg felt happy and wonderful as he left the station.   He had always been a fan of the small and little gestures and knows first-hand that sometimes a little unexpected kindness goes a long way.

 


	265. Crumple

21\. Crumple

 

Greg's hands were clenched into tight fists, his face contorted into a mix between anger, fury, frustration and disappointment.  

He watched as Mycroft smiled and relaxed as he ate.  He didn't see Greg standing in the entrance; he was on lunch break from the court and walked passed the restaurant when his eye caught the familiar black car.  

Without thinking he went inside and stopped dead.  Frozen to the spot.

Mycroft was entertaining a man.  Not just any man and it clearly wasn’t business as he had never seen Mycroft so happy and relaxed.  

With a shock he realised he has, with him.  When they are alone in his flat.  The man was handsome, very much so, he was wearing a blue suit with a white shirt and matching tie.  His blond hair was stylish and wavy around his face.  The man hand stretched out ad grabbed Mycroft's hand.  Both interlacing together.  

Greg vision narrowed his breath became more shallow and with every heartbeat he could feel it crumple.  Every beat, a little more crumpled.

"Sir?" Greg turned to the man standing there looking worried.

"W-what?" Greg stuttered out.

"I asked if you need a table for yourself or are you joining a party already here?"

"No.  I'm leaving.  Sorry." Greg hastened to get out, the building constricting his breathing. He practically ran out onto the pavement, nearly running a woman over.  He didn’t stop.  It was when he reached the court that he stopped for the first time, lunch was over, but his appetite was gone. 

As he sat down it took him more than an hour to get his thoughts back to the case.  A small part of him, knew he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, while the other part, are reminding him of his wife infidelity and that it has happen again.

 

It was the small voice that won, opening his text messages he quickly typed.

“I was on lunch today, walked down to get something to eat and saw your car.  I didn’t think, I wanted to say hello.  I saw you with that man, smiling, relaxed and holding hands.  I’m trying to ignore the little voice in my head, so I’m asking you, what was that about?  GL.

 

Forcing himself he placed his phone back in his pocket and rose when he was called as witness.  He was halfway through his testimony, when his phone vibrated. 

 


	266. Before eternity

22\. Before eternity

"Are you going to call them or not?"  Greg asked with a hint of impatience underlying his voice.   Mycroft narrowed his eyes as he stared back at Greg.

"Are you getting 'snappy' with me?" Mycroft replied as he sat back in his chair.  Greg leaned back in his chair, the big old antique table the only obstacle separating them.  Greg's face turned from frustration to smugness. 

"Yes."

"I don't appreciate it Gregory."

"Neither does Sherlock, but it's obviously the way to deal with the two of you when you're being like this."

"I said I would call them."

"Last week, and so far every but you still haven't."

"I got busy and then I..."  Mycroft tried to find the right word but Greg interrupted.

"Forgot?  Did the great Mycroft Holmes accidentally on purpose forget to call his parents and share some news?"

"I assure you I didn't forget, I’m just waiting for the opportune moment."

"Or you are having second doubts and looking for a way out."  Greg responded seriously.   He leaned forward.

"Mycroft are you having second thoughts?  You have to let me know right now." Mycroft got up in distress.

"No!"  He quickly walked around the table and stood in front of Greg, who has gotten up so they stood facing each other.

"I'm not having second thoughts; in fact you're the clearest in all my life."

"Then talk to me."

"I've never done anything like this; I’ve never brought a partner home for them to meet.  They have never known me to be in a relationship."

"Are you worried they won't approve?" Greg saw the worry in his eyes.  Mycroft looked affronted.

"No. They won't have a problem, it’s in fact the right opposite I'm worried about."

"That they do approve?"

"Yes and then they'll insist on meeting you, and dote on you and be all...."

"Parentty and tell embarrassing childhood stories and so on?"

"Precisely."

Greg placed his hands on the sides of Mycroft's face.

"My. Call them, before eternity starts mind you, I can't wait to be doted upon, and hear embarrassing childhood stories, because I can't wait to tell you mine.  I want to meet them and see them doting on us, and we'll just smile and take it in stride because we both know they love you and mean well."

"I'm warning you, they’ll be all over you and this relationship?"

"Consider me warned, I can't wait."

"You're such a conundrum to me." Mycroft leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before picking up his phone and dialled.  He stared into Greg's eyes as he talked.

"Mummy I'm calling you to tell you I'm in a relationship and want you and father to meet the man who stole my heart."

Mycroft decided it's worth it when he looked into Greg's eyes.

 


	267. Surprise me

23\. Surprise me

Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the pavement, his watch indicating that Greg should be here any minute. 

This was their day off, and they both decided that they are going to spend it with one another and not at home either.  So Greg decided he was going to take Mycroft away for the day and Mycroft just responded with a “surprise me." 

A loud roar broke his reverie and Mycroft nearly dropped his umbrella.   Greg was coming down his driveway, but he wasn’t in a car, he was on a motorcycle.   A big but beautiful shiny black machine with silver trimmings and across the tank was an artwork, a milky way with stars.  Mycroft has never felt such conflicting emotions,  one part wants to reprimand Greg for having bike and that he is not going to get on that and the other part of him have never been this turned on.  He swallowed as Greg removed opened his visor.

"Hey My, ready to go?"

"On that?"

"Yup, here I brought you your own helmet.  Come on busy day, lots of plans."

"Mycroft looked at the bike towards the helmet in his hand.

"Gregory, I’m not sure on whether I want to climb onto that."

"Come on.  Don't worry, it’d be fine.  Trust me."

"Mycroft stepped closer and slowly pulled the helmet over his head.    With the helmet and the dark jeans with button shirt and jacket he looked so unlike his usual self.  Greg whistled and gave him thumbs up.  He quickly helped Mycroft on the bike.

“Hold on tight to me and just relax.”

 


	268. Shiver  (ing)

24\. Shiver (ing)

Greg held the boy as he ran.  Aubrey Michaels was kidnapped two days ago from his home in Greenwich.  Greg knew something was off and followed a lead to the uncle’s workstation.  Although he took an officer with him, somehow he managed to get himself taken.  He really hoped the officer is all right and able to get the message back to the Yard that he was kidnapped.

The only good thing was that he was taken to the boy but beyond that, there was no way out.  At least not first.  His breakthrough came in the early morning when the guard fell asleep.  Greg managed to knock him out and took the boy and ran.  As he reached the outside the other kidnappers came back and chased them.  In an effort to get away he ran for cover and into some kind of underground tunnels. 

Unable to see clearly he just ran through tunnels, somewhere there’s got to be a latch or stairs or something that can get him out.  Taking a deep breath he looked around and took off running again.

The tunnels were some kind of water filtration system or big pipeline, which means sometime, somehow it could be filled with water, and then they both are going to drown.

About an hour later he came across a junction, trying to figure out which side is the river and which side will take him the furthest he went left, about a hundred yards further there was a bent and as he went around he laughed.  There in the distance were light shining from up above.  He walked closer, his muscles aching and sweat running down his back as he carried the boy.

When he reached the end of the tunnel he saw that up above was the tunnel opening, a ladder ran up and it was already mid-afternoon.

“Hey Aubrey, just wait here, I need to check something.”  Softly he placed the boy down and started climbing. 

“Bollocks!” he cried out as he saw the metal grid cover was held in place with chains.  They are trapped.  Looking and feeling around the cover he saw some of the cement and concrete were broken; if he try really hard he might be able to make the hole bigger, at least for the boy to get out. 

Using the light he climbed down and looked around the tunnel floor, he nearly tripped over something and picking it up, it was a piece of metal pipe.  With renewed effort he pushes the pipe between the metal bars and cement and pushed. 

Small pieces were falling off, but still not big enough.  He struggled for about twenty minutes and only managed to open a hole about the size of a foot. 

“The water is rising!” the boy yelled and Greg looked down, sure enough the little puddles they walked through was turning into a small stream. 

They were in trouble. 

“Just stay close and try to stay calm okay, I just have to open this hole a little more then you will go out.” 

“What about you?”

Greg knew his chances for survival was small, if the water kept rising, he might not be able to be quick enough to get them both out.  But the boy was first priority.

“I’ll follow.  Don’t worry.”

After another twenty minutes the hole was about a foot and half, however the water was rising fast.  The boy was standing on the stairs, trying to keep head above water.  Greg put the metal bar he’d been using on top of the grid and bend down to lift the boy up to his level.  It was much more difficult to expand the hole while trying to keep the boy his level as well.  The water was increasing and although the labour was warming Greg, both he and the boy was shivering from the ice water. 

His hands were numb, and he couldn’t feel his lower body but he used every last ounce of strength he kept scratching and digging the cement away.  The water had risen to about his chest and it was freezing cold.  He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Come on, let’s get you out.” With effort and squeezing the boy was able to squeeze through the hole.

“What about you?”

“Listen Aubrey, don’t worry about me, I’ll find a way, what can you see, are you close to people that can help?”

“I can see some buildings in the distance, there are cars coming, a black sleek one in front with the police!” Greg sighed in relief.  The boy will be safe, the black car might be Mycroft or Sherlock, but with the way the water is raising, they might still be too late.  It doesn’t matter, the boy is safe.

“Aubrey listen, if one of the men is a tall man, with curly black hair, a black coat and blue scarf, with a friend next to him, who is blond, wearing jeans and a jumper, you stick with them okay.  Trust them; don’t let them out of your sight.”

The water was rising fast, and Greg had to use every bit of willpower to stay awake.  His body was numb, his arms sore and hands bloodied and scratched. 

He tried to talk to the boy but he was standing and waving his arms to get the attention of the police.  He could hear the sirens now.  He was so tired and knowing the boy was safe was enough to get him to stop fighting so hard to stay awake.  He struggled to keep his head above water, but was only able to take half a breath when he submerged.  He fingers let go of the ladder and felt himself drifting.  His vision became cloudy until finally everything became black.

 

On the ground the boy saw Sherlock running towards them and looked down.

“His down there! Help!”  Sherlock pushed the boy toward John as he bends down to the grid.  He couldn’t see anything and quickly picked the lock, Sally was crouched down next to him and when he had the grid open they both reach down and tried to find Greg.  Sherlock grabbed the first thing he could, which was Greg’s arm and pulled.  As his head broke free Sally grabbed the other side and both pulled him out.  Greg came up spluttering and coughing and was laid between them his face towards Sherlock as he tried to breathe.

“T---th-e bbbb.” He tried to get out with much difficulty, Sherlock smiled.

“Fine.  He’s fine.”

Greg nodded and smiled back.

 


	269. Murmur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because murmur intrigued me to no end with so many possibilities for a story I wrote two different little ficlets. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy both and let me know which one is your favourite, I'm still undecided.

Because murmur intrigued me to no end with so many possibilities for a story I wrote two different little ficlets. 

Hope you enjoy both and let me know which one is your favourite, I'm still undecided. 

 

25\. Murmur

Greg fiddled with his hands, his nervousness plain to see.   The thing is, it's not every day you go for a random medical check-up and the doctor listened to your heart and then listened a bit longer and even a little bit longer.  When the doctor listened the second time with that serious face, the message is clear: something is wrong. The third time he listened and then looked at Greg he knew there was something even more than wrong.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure." The doctor answered.  Greg frowned.

"You’re a doctor and something sounded wrong, what is it?  I'm a cop, I can take it."

"You have a heart murmur."

"A heart what?"

"Murmur. It's when there is an extra sound besides your heartbeat.   Most are innocent, but there are those than can mean a variety of things."

"And it's to do with the heart?"

"Yes."

"Like heart failure or heart attack?"

"In very rare and extreme cases. Until we know exactly what this cause is and what type, it’s very difficult to speculate.  I would like to order some more tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"And EKG, blood tests a normal x-ray and a echocardiography to be on the safe side." Greg’s face paled, that sounded more than serious. He took a few breaths and turned to the doctor.

"When should I take it?"

"As soon as possible, if you'd like I can try to get appointments early tomorrow if you're pressed for time?"

"Can a pathologist also do the tests, it’s just I know someone who might be able to help me right away?"

"By all means, can you maybe have a doctor present?" Thinking of John he nodded.

"Good, just send me the results and we'll take it from there."

An hour later he was at Bart’s with both Molly and John in front of him.   Sherlock sat hunched over a microscope in the corner.  Testing Greg’s blood.

Greg had never felt more like a Guinea pig under a microscope than in that moment.  No one was laughing or smiling, just focused.  John dropped everything and came running, Molly listened with a mixture of professionalism and friendly concern as he explained the situation to them.  Sherlock insisted on drawing the blood and ran those tests while Molly and John alternative between the other to do the rest of the tests. 

The x-ray was normal but the EKG showed a slight difference in heartbeats and the murmur is clearly there.  They are just waiting for the blood tests which Sherlock was still conducting.  He was so thorough he took the double the amount of blood and running more than the normal procedure of tests. 

The longer they waited the more tense it became.  

Greg's text alert broke the silence and Greg looked at his phone.

"Oh damn." He softly cursed, he promise he'd be available for dinner with Mycroft and in this turn of events he forgot to let him know that dinner might not happen.

He turned around and walked to the corner and dialled Mycroft.

John watched as he quickly explained the situation and apologising for the cancelled plans.  Sherlock watched as well but didn’t say anything.  Good old John made tea to calm the nerves; it’s been twenty minutes when the door opened.  All three turned to the newcomer.  Mycroft just nodded and walked over to Greg.

“Hey Love, don’t you have a meeting?”

“Anthea rescheduled.  I wanted to be here.”

“It might not be that bad.”

“Not a risk I’m willing to take.”  Greg just smiled and grabbed Mycroft’s hand tight; he didn’t even try to hide the anxiety and fear in his eyes.  Mycroft squeezed their hands even more, before he sat down next to Greg. 

Both the EKG and Echocardiography revealed a tiny heart murmur, but it was Sherlock who gave the answer. He handed his results to John who nodded.

“It’s a mild case of endocarditis.”

“That doesn’t sound mild John.”  Greg replied.  Molly explained.

“It’s a bacterial or viral infection of the inner lining of your heart and heart valves.  The murmur is caused when your valve doesn’t work properly and allows the blood to leak backwards and sometimes even obstruct the blood flow.”  Greg took a deep breath, processing the information.  Mycroft turned to Molly.

“It’s treatable right?

“Oh yes.  It’s actually quite extraordinary that it was found so early, still it will take several weeks to fully heal, the course of antibiotics however are intravenous, so you’ll need scheduled appointment with the hospital for the IV.”

“Several weeks? IV only?”  Greg asked as he leaned forward in the chair, while he ran his hands through his hair.  Molly crouched down.

“Don’t worry, it was caught very early, the IV’s will be quick, this won’t stop you.”  Greg just gave a small unconvincing smile. 

“Besides…” Mycroft started as he looked at Greg. “..You won’t be alone in this.”

 

 

Murmur 2

Greg lived for the days when he wakes up like this; Mycroft snuggled against him, his head on his chest, the sunlight slowly making its way across the bed to embrace them.  It was quiet and serene.  He knew it made him a romantic and sentimental man, but he didn’t care.  Trying not to move much he slowly and gently started rubbing Mycroft’s back. 

Mycroft felt the slight movements on his skin and smiled.  Greg always was very physical.  Opening his eyes he lifted is head to Greg.

“Morning Love, slept well?”

“Yes thank you Gregory, you?”

“Hmm.  How about we both call in sick and stay at home in bed?”

“You say that every morning.”

“Hoping one day you’ll listen.”

Mycroft shook his head and laid his head back on Greg’s chest, every morning he allows himself two minutes of just relishing in the fact that Greg is real and there and he can hear his heartbeat.  It always calms his mind.  Mycroft’s eyes shot opened, his eyes focused. 

“Gregory, please hold your breath for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” Rolling his eyes, Greg took a deep breath and held his breath.  Mycroft laid his ear right across Greg’s heart and listened.  When he lifted his head Greg knew something was wrong.

“My?”

“I think you are getting your off day.”

“What. Mycroft what’s wrong?  Because right now you are scaring me and not in the good turn on kind of way?”

“Your heartbeat, something sounds off, it doesn’t sound like the one I’m used to.”

“Okay, is it faster, cause you and me in the same bed, has that effect.”

“Gregory.”

“Okay, okay, Sorry.  So different as in how?”

“Irregular, like there’s something beating with it, or changing it.  I’m calling a doctor.”  Before Greg could stop him, Mycroft was out the bed and on the phone. 

 

An hour later they were both at the private clinic with the private doctor Mycroft uses. 

The doctor was quite thorough with his check-up, with Mycroft overlooking the whole proceedings.  When he listened to the heart he looked at Greg.

“You have a heart murmur.  I’m scheduling some tests.”  Greg paled.

“Heart what?  What’s a murmur, what tests?”

"Murmur. It's when there is an extra sound besides your heartbeat.   Most are innocent, but there are those than can mean a variety of things.  The murmur is caused when your heart valves doesn’t work properly and allows the blood to leak backwards and sometimes even obstruct the blood flow.  Some are innocent and some needs medical assistance, without further test, it’s hard to speculate.  I’m ordering and x-ray, EKG and an echocardiography to be safe and a full blood work.” As the doctor spoke Greg’s face paled and became more worried.  Mycroft face was expressionless as always, but Greg knew inside he was raging.

The doctor left with the promise of arranging everything and quickly left the office.  As the door closed behind him, Mycroft walked over to Greg and held him close.

“This is not what I meant by taking a sick day, My, not this.”

“I know.”

“I’ll admit, I’m scared, he said heart valves, blood flow obstruction, and it’s serious.”

“Maybe, it could be innocent Gregory.  It could be nothing and we discovered it soon, it will all work out.”

“Thank you for being here with me, and for listening to my heart every morning.”

“It’s the only song that calms mine.”

 


	270. One of us

26\. One of us

Greg came home after a long day, he was exhausted and his clothes dirty from where he tackled a suspect.   The only thing he wanted to do right now was to soak in a warm and long bath, then an ice cold beer with some take away, which would be followed by a hopefully long and deep sleep.  

Summer is great, but not so much when you're dirty, sweating and tired. He undressed as he walked towards the bathroom and without a second glance, threw the clothes in the laundry basket. 

He filled the tub with water and poured some bubble bath as well.   Making his mind up he quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer. 

He'll drink his ice cold beer in the tub, surrounded by bubbles. 

Knowing he might be needed somewhere he put his phone close by and sank into the water with the most enticement sigh. 

His phone rang halfway through his bottle.

"Lestrade?"

"Gregory." Mycroft's smooth voice instantly made Greg smile.

"Hey."

"Heard you had a tiring day?"

"Hmm.  Are you on your way home?"

"Unfortunately I'm still in the office; don’t know when I'll be done."

"Oh. Okay."

"What are you doing? Are you home yet?"

"Yes. Is in the bath right now, bubbles and beer, relaxing at its best."

"I wish I could join you."

"We'll you know what they say?"

"And what's that?”

"I'm in the bath and you're in the office, one of us is in the wrong place."

"Quite accurate."

"I'll see you when you come home, don’t work too late. In the meantime I'll just be in the nice hot bubble bath, soaking my tiring muscles on my lonesome self, while the ice cold beer keeps me company.”

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Liar. See you later Love."

 

Greg was awaken by a body shuffling inside the bed behind him.  Warm feet behind his legs and safe arms snaking around his torso.  He half opens his eyes.

"My?"

"You said one of us is in the wrong place, I'm just correcting it."

"Thank goodness for that."

"Sleep well my dearest."

"You too Love."

 


	271. Every heart a song

27\. Every heart a song

Greg was stumped, he was out of his depths, but then again so was everyone in his team.   Sally and Anderson all stood scattered around the crime scene, shocked and disbelieving.  

Greg knew one thing though; this was the work of a serial killer, with no remorse and no sense of boundaries.  

The victim was sprayed out on the ground, his fingers attached to strings from a musical instrument on the floor to the sides of the wall.  The strings ran across his torso with his heart cut out and placed on top of his chest and strings.   Little musical notes were attached to the strings as if in a composition.

Above his head was a music sheet with notes and a title.   "Heart song” Greg will also be able to tell you with absolute certainty that the musical notes on the sheet will match the notes on the strings. 

"Does anyone have a problem with me calling Sherlock?" He voiced out barely audible, but in the silence of the crime scene they all heard, and they all didn't answer.   Not that their opinion will matter.   Greg would call him and that's final. 

Half an hour later Sherlock arrived with John at his heels.

"The better be good Lestrade, I was doing a very important expe..." Sherlock voice died down as he took in the scene.  He blinked a few times and turned to Greg.   Greg could see the familiar gleam and mechanics working.   Anderson didn't even comment as he walked around the body and did his thing. 

Finally he glanced at the sheet and gasped.  

"Sherlock?" Greg asked but Sherlock didn't answer, instead he just stood up and grabbed Greg by his sleeve and dragged him out of the room into the hallway.   Greg tried to protest but Sherlock was unrelenting.  

"Call Mycroft."

"What?"

"That man in in the government, he is actually a minor in the transport department.  That music sheet the sheet from an old song, with the lyrics 'every heart a song'. It was the first song Mycroft leaned on the piano."

"So this is a warning to Mycroft?  To get to him?"

"Yes, by going after the very thing that would get to him."

"His heart?"

"Yes. And the killer isn't done; the heart is just the start."

"How is this connected to Mycroft?"

"Oh do keep up?  What is his heart? Or more accurately ‘who’ is his heart? "

"If you're talking metaphorical, his heart is you." Greg answered while John’s eyes widen as he stared at Greg.

"I'm in his head, he loves me yes, but I'm not his heart."

Greg opened his mouth to reply but froze, his eyes widen in realisation, disbelief all over his face.

"He's coming after me?" Greg asked tentatively.

"Yes Inspector, you need to call him to place you somewhere safe so I can solve the case without worrying about you."

Greg was so taken aback he didn't even registered what Sherlock said, instead he took out his phone but, apparently to Sherlock was to slow as he grabbed the phone and dialled  Greg didn’t hear a word as Sherlock explained the situation, his mind focused on the fact that an innocent man was killed to get to him and Mycroft.  He had no idea why, no clue what to do or say.  He just stood there in limbo as things around him happened.

Mycroft arrived within twenty minutes, ignoring Greg and everyone else he walked into the crime scene and did his deductions.  Greg could see that several black cars and vans stopped outside.  Mycroft is taking control of the situation. 

Greg walked over to Sally.

“This isn’t our case anymore, pack it all up and go back to the station.”

“But what…?”

“Sal, I’ll explain everything later and if I know more.  Just keep your head down okay?”

“Are you okay?”

“This is personal, targeted at Mycroft; we both know he is going to take over the case.”

“Personal meaning you.”

Greg just nodded, Sally took the hint and spread the word for them to pack up or hand it over to the men in suits.  With one glance she left.  Greg turned to Sherlock and John who stood in the corner watching Mycroft; he could see the worry in Sherlock’s eyes but didn’t say anything, so he just stood against the wall.  Mycroft would find him soon enough.

 


	272. Over and over

28\. Over and over

Greg was quiet, just staring at the scene in front of him.  Sherlock stood centre in the room unaware of how much his words are hurting.   John was looking at Sherlock, his face contorted in disbelief and anger.  Greg opened his mouth to speak but decided against it.  It would be futile and he knows Sherlock won't understand how he did wrong.   The thing is Sherlock does probably know he just doesn't care.  Without looking at either of them he turned around and walked away.   He didn't even acknowledge Mrs Hudson as he passed her down the stairs.   He kept walking away from Baker Street.  It had started to rain but Greg didn't care right now the rain was a welcome distraction.  His phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it, it was either John apologising or Sherlock getting the last word in or ask for a case. 

He kept walking home, ignoring the people he passed and his phone that kept ringing. 

By the time he got home he was soaked through, his clothes melted against his skin as if it transformed into a business addition to wet suits.  His hair was flat against his head, small rivulets of water cascading down into his eyes.   His shoes decided to take up a personal challenge to see how much water it could carry besides his feet.

He walked straight to his bathroom and undressed dropping all of his clothes in the tub.   Dressed only in his boxers he sunk down the floor his head resting on his knees and arms. 

He didn't even try to stop the shivering.   And just sat there until his bathroom door opened. Shiny black shoes attached to endless legs covered in a dark charcoal pinstripe suit. 

He didn't look up, not wanting to show his weakness.   Mycroft bent down and took his hands.

"You’re shivering, I made tea but you didn't notice me in your living room.   I waited, thought you'd take a shower and when you didn't come out I decided to see how you are?"

"You were here when I came home?" Greg asked still looking down.

"Yes. The tea is cold, just like you I might add."

"Sorry."

"Gregory would you look at me please?"

Greg shook his head and Mycroft mind provided the image of a shaggy wet dog shaking his fur.

"Gregory.  I promise you that you won't find pity nor any shame in my eyes." Greg slowly lifted his head, and turned to Mycroft.   Mycroft placed his hands on Greg's face and leaned over giving him a kiss.

"Please get up, and take a hot shower, your skin is cold, too cold and your lips turning blue. I'll make a fresh pot of tea." Greg nodded and made to stand up, with Mycroft helping him.

"Over and over and over.  I keep taking it.  Why?"

"We both know why Gregory.  I don’t know why he is so insisting on hurting and pushing the loved ones away, maybe it's his way of protecting himself.  He’s my brother and I'm not always sure of his actions,  but I do know that both my brother and I would be completely lost and desolate without you in our lives, especially me Gregory,  you’re the light that brightness my dark existence.  Now please take a shower and then I'll allow you to cuddle me into your bed." Greg eyes shone bright with held back tears, but smiled at Mycroft’s statement. 

"You like cuddling just as much as I do."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Yeah yeah.  See you in a bit." Mycroft turned to walked out before Greg stopped him.

"My?"

"Hmm."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

 


	273. Sometimes I dream

29\. Sometimes I dream

It wasn't the first time where Greg woke up with Mycroft wrapped around him tightly, however it is the first time since he was admitted to hospital that Mycroft is there with him.

Mycroft was away on business out of the country and it was difficult to get hold of him.   Greg had the car accident three days ago and although serious it wasn't life threatening, meaning no one told Mycroft until he came back.  He must have come to the hospital straight away as he was still immaculately dressed and smelling of the airport. Greg has discovered the small private airport he uses has a distinctive smell. Looking around he could see the umbrella against the wall, and Mycroft’s coat and jacket was hanging on the back of the chair.   His shoes must have been on the floor as he is definitely in his socks next to Greg under the blanket.

Careful as not to strain his IV line and causing the needle inside to move he shifted so that he can have a better look at his partner.

Shadows under his eyes meaning little sleep, shirt looser, so he didn't ate well.  Greg sighed.

"That better be a deep breath instead of a sigh at my appearance." Mycroft's soft voice broke the silence.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself My."

"Neither have you." Mycroft retorted.

"I was in an accident and now are submitted to scheduled meals with scheduled portions, it's not like I can help myself to the biscuits in the cupboard."

"Temptation in my own kitchen.  The treason."

Greg chuckled softly.

"I'm glad you're home safely Love."

"Imagine my surprise in finding out you weren't there, instead decided a hospital bed was better than mine."

"To be fair, right now the hospital bed has you in it, which gets my vote."

"This accident is highly inappropriate and unnecessary, you should be more careful in the future."

Greg didn't even try to retort, it was Mycroft's way of saying he was worried and the fact that even though they are alone, it was a public place and he still climbed in bed next to him.  Greg pulled him closer.

"I'm sorry Love.   Didn't mean to scare you." Mycroft just geld tighter.  It was quiet for a while when Mycroft spoke again.

"You know, sometimes I dream, I dream that I'm still alone, and we aren't together.  That when my dreams scare me, and sometimes I dream that I've never met you or have but you hated me and wanted nothing to do with me,  that's when my dreams terrify me like nothing else has. It seems that I cannot breathe or function without you."

Greg pulled Mycroft close and buried his head on Mycroft's shoulder.

"I love you too Mycroft.  I've never been more in love and happy than this moment with you and every day it just expand more and more.  We don't have to dream anymore Love, for real life is for once better than any dream."

 

 


	274. Surrender

30\. Surrender

Sherlock looked smug, instead the term 'the cat who got the cream' pale in comparison.   Greg had a smile on his face as he led the way.   He never thought Sherlock would do something like this and thought he would either shock him or surprise him when he suggested it.  Greg stared and then agreed. That took the wind out of Sherlock's sails and Greg revelled in the fact that he got one over the Consulting Detective.  Sherlock quickly recovered and this morning he arrived at Greg's place before he left for work.  Greg just opened the car door.   Sending a quick text to Mycroft. 

“I need a kiddy lunch box with toy, a science toy. GL”

 

“Something you want to share? MH”

 

“I have a son today. GL”

 

“Please tell me it’s not what I think it is. MH”

 

“It’s take your kid to work day.  GL”

 

“The relationship between you and my brother continue to surprise me.  MH”

 

Greg smiled as he climbed in.  Sherlock started going through his stuff, Greg just turned the radio on and went to word.

“What did my brother say?” 

“That apparently we both managed to surprise him.” 

“Must irritate him like a grain of sand in his shoe.”

“You know, today I can live with that.”  Greg replied to Sherlock’s amazement.  He stared at Greg and then finally allowed a sincere smile on his face.

“So can I.”

Sherlock followed him around the whole day, even behaved when Greg had to do paperwork and saw for the first time the meeting he had with his team in the conference room.  Talking about the case and all that other administration things he never thought of.  Sally and Anderson tried their best to not be too rude and nasty as they are surrounded by other small children.  For all intends and purposes Sherlock was the model of good behaviour.  Their lunch was brought, compliments by Mycroft.  They both had amazing food, however both of theirs was in children lunchboxes, both Pirates of the Caribbean themed.  There was lasagne, a small salad and the customary juice boxes. 

Greg stared at his box.

“I’m going to kill your brother.”

“You did ask for a kiddy lunch box.”

“For you.”

“Well isn’t it customary for the supposed ‘parent’ to support the child?”

“My dad never shared a lunch box with me.”

“You’re sharing it with me.” Sherlock softly said as he sat back not eating.  Greg just gave a small nod.

“True, I’ll even surrender my toy if you eat up.”

“Depends. What toy did you get?”

“Jack Sparrow.”

“Deal.”

 


	275. Nostalgia

1\. . Nostalgia

Greg leaned forward in his chair his face and body turned to the big fan on the floor.  It was on high the air cooling the warm and stuffy room. The dry and stale air was suffocating and lacking the smallest amount of humidity. 

Greg would argue that his sweating is providing the only source of water and humidity for the room. 

The overwhelming desire to just remove his shirt was taking priority over the old files scattered over the desk   

They were investigating a link to a few old cases, like seriously old cases, before computers and digital media.  Greg brought a scanner and pc down with him so he can make digital copies for their system.   Even though it wasn't his job, he still volunteered to scan these specific files he was looking for in his investigation. 

He was thirsty and the bottle of water he did brought with him were emptied in the first hour, bow three hours later he knew he needed to go back upstairs and rehydrate.

First he’s taking a break and allowing himself five minutes to stare into the fan, letting the cooling air wash over him.  He closed his eyes and gave an audible sigh.  It sounded robotic in the fan.  He opened his eyes and laughed.   Nostalgia overcame him as he remembered how he and his siblings used to take turns as kids to talk into the fan.  They didn't had air-conditioning in their grandparents home, so they would play with the fan.  Taking turns and talking into the fan, allowing their voices to change.

He was so in caught up in memory lane that he didn't hear the door opening.  Mycroft walked in with a bottle of water in his hand.  Seeing Greg so entranced by the fan he smiled.

"Gregory?"  Greg's eyes turned to him, smiling.

"My!" His voices sounded loud and robotic.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft asked, taking a step closer and handing Greg the water bottle who took it nearly drank the half in one gulp.

"Thanks." He finally said as he put the bottle down.

"I was taking a break."

"In front of the fan?"

"Do you remember how we used to talk into the fan, just to hear our voices sounding all robotic?"

"No. I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"What?" Greg asked.  He stood up.

"The horror!  Come here." He indicated to Mycroft who just rolled his eyes and walked over to him.  He indicated Mycroft must take his place.

"Okay so what you do is making sure you are as close to the fan as possible then you talk."

"Gregory I don't think I want to do that."

"Yes you do. Come on just try it."

Mycroft leaned over and his eyes focused on Greg.

"You are the most incorrigible and loving man I've ever met." Greg laughed as he spoke, his voice all robotic.  Mycroft just shook his head, grabbed Greg closer and kissed him in front of the fan.

 


	276. Flicker

2\. . Flicker

The knock came unexpectedly.  Greg was busy with the usual paperwork, it was late afternoon and most of his team had gone home for the day.  

"Come in." He answered without looking up.   Mycroft arranged to pick him up for dinner and he must have forgotten the time.

"Sorry My, let me just pack up and then we can go."

He said as he packed the papers away and then finally looked up and froze.

"Who's My?" The woman asked as she stepped closer, wearing a very low cut top, tight jeans and heels.  Greg blinked.  When he realised his eyes weren't deceiving him he became angry and stood up.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. Is that anyway to greet your wife?"

"EX wife.   We've been divorced for a couple of years now."

"Three years, and it obviously didn't took you that long to get over me."

"At least I waited till the divorce was finalised instead of cheating while married."

"Aren't you ever going to let that go?"

"Uum let me think.  No."

"Greg darling."

"I'm not your darling, just get out with it, why are you here?"

"We parted on bad terms and I just want an opportunity to apologise and see if we can't be in civil terms."

Mycroft walked towards Greg’s office, happy that the day was finally over and he could spend some time with Greg.   He had a whole evening planned and couldn't wait to be with him.  The raised voices coming from the office grabbed his attention and he walked closer, neither saw him. He frowned.  What does his ex-wife wanted this time of night?  He took the time to read her body language became angry.  

She is single and wants Greg back, obviously realising that as far as men go, Greg is exceptional and a keeper.   He stepped closer to listen better.  Greg was furious and nearly screaming.

“Bad terms?  We parted on bad terms?  You're unbelievable.   You cheated!  You called me a weak man and a looser.  You called me a lot of things and took me to the cleaners in the divorce.  Left me with nothing and now you want to what?  Be buddies.   Shall we go and have drinks discussing how bad we we're treated in life and relationships?  No thank you.  Go have fun with the teacher." Greg must have seen something in her eyes because he went on.

"You broke up, what no longer exciting now that the danger of being caught is eliminated?"

"He cheated! You were many things Greg, but you were always faithful and kind... I feel terrible about what happened and if there's the smallest chance that we can be..."

"Friends?  Or try again?"  He interrupted.

"Anything."  She softly replied.

"How about nothing.  I'm happy with my life and most of all with my relationship and if there is any flicker of a chance that My loves me as much as I love him, we will always be together, getting stronger every day.  You see I was happy with you, but I'm so ecstatic with him, I have never felt more love and acceptance and respected as I do with him, and he will be here any moment so please leave I don't want him to be upset with your presence."

She was about to retort when Mycroft stepped out of the shadows in to the office 

"I'm already here." Looking at her with distaste he turned to Greg.

"Are you ready?" Greg nodded and picked up his jacket and walked over to Mycroft who in a spontaneous mood grabbed Greg and kissed him furiously in front of her.  When they finally parted he turned to her.

"Everything he said to you about his feelings to me I reciprocate a hundred fold.  I'm not letting him go, and his not letting me go, you had your chance but you gambled it away for scraps trust me, I won't make the same mistake.   I know what I have in this amazing and wonderful man so please do excuse us and I trust you can find your way out of this building and our lives?"  Without looking back he and Greg left hand in hand leaving a disheartened and angry woman behind.

 


	277. Cyclical

3\. Cyclical

For the first time in what most likely ever since the day they met, Sherlock got a taste of his own medicine.  The honour of that accomplishment belonged to none other than his favourite DI.  Detective Gregory Lestrade.

They were standing all around the dead body; Sherlock was rambling off facts and deductions, when John threw a random sarcastic moment.

“What did you say?’ Greg interrupted Sherlock’s rambling, to his surprise; he narrowed his eyes in indignation but walked towards Greg who took a step closer to John.  John looked surprised.

“I said, so much for Santa’s helper this year.”

“But Santa’s helpers usually are elves isn’t it?”

“Yeah but the circus is in town, and the theme this year is Santa’s helpers or North Pole or something.”  Greg stared at him as his mind reflecting John’s words. 

“What are you thinking Lestrade?”  Sherlock asked all serious, knowing Greg is on to something.

“Last year we had a cabaret dancer, the year before we had a Disney princess, the year before it was a cowboy country girl.” 

“Every theme the circus had for the past few years.” Sherlock said.

“It’s cyclical. We have a very patient serial killer, either in the circus or using it as a front.” Greg said a smile on his face.  John grinned at him.

“You just broke the case mate.”  Greg’s smile became wider, mimicking John’s.  Sherlock looked from the one to the other.

“Don’t smile Lestrade; you are at a crime scene.” Greg laughed out louder.

“Hasn’t bothered you before.”

 


	278. Exhale

4\. . Exhale

 

Greg’s muscles flexed as he tried to hold onto his position.  Small grunts and groans escaping his lips. The perspiration along his forehead was shining in the morning light. 

“Hold.” Mycroft demanded when he saw that Greg was losing focus.

“I’m try…ing.”Greg grunted out.

“Gregory it’s not this hard.”

“Says the man who has been doing this for a lot longer than I.”

“Three, two one exhale and release into corpse pose.” Instead of slowly releasing Greg just fell back onto the floor.

“Feel like a corpse.”  He muttered.  Mycroft just rolled his eyes and step closer. 

“You’re supposed to easy into every pose, not dropped like a dead weight.”

“You said corpse pose, was trying to be authentic.”  Greg joked back, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches his partner.

“You will get better at this, if you still want to continue.”

“Yes please, since you started teaching me a few days ago, I actually do feel better, also it’s a good way of spending time with you, and you’re a great teacher.”  Mycroft slightly blushed as he helped Greg up from the floor.

“I enjoy teaching you yoga and anything I can.”

“Not to mention all the positions you bundle me in, I feel like a pretzel.”

“Oh Gregory, I’m sure we can use it to our advantage. “

 


	279. Pearl

5.. Pearl

Greg was happy; he was on a whole different level of happy.  He sat back on the sofa, his eyes sparkling as he watched Sherlock. 

Sherlock came back from the dead about a month ago and now he is back demanding cases and deducing him-and his team - left right and centre. 

Sherlock realised he was being watched and stopped reading the file, he turned to Greg.

"Why are you staring at me? And why with that ridiculous smile on your face?" Greg's grin got wider.

"Sherlock, do you know where pearls come from?"

Sherlock blinked in confusion. 

"What?"

"Pearls, that shiny round balls women love to wear around their necks?"

"I know what it is.!"

"Do you know where they come from?"

"Oysters."

"Did you know that they were originally a grain of sand?"  Sherlock didn't reply but Greg could see he didn't know that and that he was intrigued.  Greg went on.

"You see when a grain of sand enters the little oyster's home, it is actually an irritation, so to compensate the oyster releases a type of juice, for lack of better word, called nacre. Nacre is what gives oyster that pearlescent shine, anyway so it covers the grain to get rid of the irritation. But you see it doesn't go away, so it keeps getting covered in the nacre and getting bigger until harvest time to become one of the most beautiful and classic and timeless pieces."

"Is there any point to this?"

"I'm so glad you're back from the dead...” Greg kept looking at Sherlock, willing him to understand that what Greg feeling for him is similarly to the pearl.   Came like an irritation and maybe with what Greg meant to him and to teach him, he became the most beautiful and timeless pearl he ever had the honour to meet. Sherlock gave a deep breath and swallowed once before he looked away. 

"So the case...."

"Yeah. The case..."

 


	280. Shiver

6\. . Shiver

Greg was staring straight ahead, every muscle in his body tensed and fuelled by adrenalin.  His day went from reasonably okay to downright horrible. 

Sally was in the car he dared to hope that she was figuring out that something went wrong. 

He stopped to get them lunch at the small shop when it was taken over by three men in mask and guns.  A robbery.  A bloody daylight robbery and he – a cop - is caught in the middle. 

Looking at the rest of the people caught in the robbery you don’t need a genius to see he stands out like a sore thumb.  A mother with two small children, an old couple buying a few days of necessiticiws and three teenagers who stopped for snacks after school.  He on the other hand was dressed in the normal business gear. 

“Everybody to that corner now!”  the one in front of the cash register yelled, pointing a gun at each of them.  They made their way over to the corner he indicated.  As he walked he could see outside the window Sally climbing out of the car and walking over.  her instincts kicked in overdrive and he saw her called for backup.

One of the toddlers started crying and all three men turned towards the mom.  A shiver ran down Greg’s back.  The child needed to stop crying otherwise this was going to turn ugly.  He made sure he was close to them and tried to help the mom, calming the children.  It seemed to help as they cried silently instead of howling loud.

Twenty minutes later the place was surrounded with cops and blinking red and blue lights.  Greg was unable to see outside but when he looked up he saw the security camera in the store moved.  He smiled.

Mycroft.

Not long and this will be all over.


	281. Anticipation

7.. Anticipation

It has been long awaited, this moment where one chapter begins and another starts.

It began in a warehouse meeting; it escalated to a mutual understanding to protect Sherlock.  

Acquaintances evolved to team members in a two big brother cause.

Colleagues were formed against a hospital bed, several hospital beds and close encounters of a near deadly overdose.

It was in the midnight hours were the usual shields and masks come off and two men connected and became friends. 

It was over coffee meetings and later on dinner meetings that friends became dates and partner potentials.

Over the rim of a wine glass and the sharing of secrets and anecdotes, that feelings and emotions overtook business and calculations.

A dinner became a date and a walk down the street became a walk into their own world, connected by the holding of hands and mirrored smiles and gestures. 

All this was a prelude to this moment where it partners transformed into lovers.  Mycroft stood in the living room, his eyes on Greg, who were leaning in to kiss him.

Their lips are about to meet for the first time their mouths exploring and giving fire to the spark inside them both. 

Greg stopped when they were almost touching, his hand on Mycroft's cheek his eyes looking into him.

"I've waited years for this moment, and I took it slow, letting the anticipation drive me on in the mornings to get up, knowing one day it will pay off. I've waited and hoped for a moment where we kissed. A moment where the air is waiting and holding its breath with us,  lingering as we close the distance and securing us in the knowledge that this is only the beginning."

 

And it was.

 


	282. Hunter's moon

8\. Hunter’s moon

 

Greg watched through the glass windows to the outside, his eyes focused on the man standing on the balcony, he was leaning against the pillar a small line of white smoke looping and weaving through the night air. His silhouette was black against the twilight sky.  It was beautiful, impressive and imposing.  His hand moved to his mouth and the cigarette flamed red and orange as he inhaled. 

Finishing his drink he put his empty glass down on the table and made his way to the outside.  With a smile and easy wave with his hand he circled through the crown, making his way outside.  The chill in the air caught him off guard after the warmth and light inside the ballroom.

“Hey stranger.” His voice was soft, but sounded loud in the silence.  The man turned around, his face smiling and open.

“Were not strangers Gregory.”

“I know. It’s a line from a movie.  I’ll show it to you sometime.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you inside; I had to make a call.”

“And stick around for a smoke?  It’s okay, I wasn’t pining away, five minutes longer and yes, I was going to start writing love songs and carry a flower in remembrance.”

“Damn there goes my chance to be a muse in a pop song.”  Mycroft joked back, Greg pretended to be offended.

“Oi, it would’ve been a ballad, I’ll let you know.”

“My apologies.”

He looked at Greg all dressed up in his suit and tie, he knows this function was a bit out of his league, but as always Greg’s compassion and support knows no bounds.

“Gregory. Thank you for being here with me.”

“Where else would I be, if not with you?”

So much word with so much meaning.  Mycroft didn’t reply just put out his cigarette and turned to the moon, making its way through the barriers of twilight into the air.

“Its full moon.”  He commented.  Greg stepped closer taking his hand.

“It’s called the Hunter’s moon, you shouldn’t be outside, a beautiful man like you might become hunted by bachelors.”

“Oh I’m already caught, and I have my hunter.”

“Damn straight.”


	283. Languid

9.. Languid

Mycroft came home to from to a quiet house.  There was no music playing or a game on telly, usually the first thing Greg does when he comes home is to either put a game on in the background or some music.  He found it the best way to relax after a hectic day.

He hangs up his coat next to Greg’s and took a moment to smell it.  It’s one of his vices, the unmistakable scent of Greg in his home.  Granted, Greg himself was a big vice.  A soft breeze was weaving through the house.  An open window, no breeze to strong, an open door.

He smiled.  Ever since they got one of those swing double chairs for the patio, Greg has taken a shine to it, especially in the summer.  Mycroft marvelled at what a outside or sun worshipper he is. 

With steady steps he walked to the patio. 

Ah there he is. 

Greg was dressed in comfortable worn out jeans and an old t shirt.  He was barefoot and sitting with one foot resting on the others knee.  He was leaned back with a glass of juice in his hand.  The epitome languid tranquillity. 

“May I join you?”  Mycroft asked as he stepped outside.  Greg eyes lit up, seeing him.

“Hello Love.  Yes please, the only condition thought is out with jacket, waistcoat may stay, but shirt sleeves up, so I can admire those lovely arms.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes but still took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.   He will never admit how he loved surrendering to Greg’s little ‘conditions’.  He walked over to the table and poured him some juice as well from the jug then made his way over to Greg who shifted so that Mycroft can make himself comfortable against him.  He snuggled against Greg chest.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Greg softly commented.

“Indeed. “

“How was your day?”

“Much better since I came home.”

Greg chucked softly.

“Know the feeling.”

They sat in comfortable silence just basking in each other’s company and watching the sunset.

 


	284. I spy

10.. I spy...

Mycroft was worried; he’s been trying to get hold of Greg for the past seven hours and twenty five minutes.  Nothing.

Greg is always available, either through his phone or with Mycroft's security cameras.   The phone was off and the cameras were without Greg's trace.

In all honesty Mycroft was frantic with worry.  His first thought was that he was kidnapped and held but he knew that wasn't it. It didn't feel right. 

Trying to call Greg again he decided to get some help.

The phone was picked up on the second ring.

"What?"

"Have you seen Gregory today?"

"No. I'm not his babysitter."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Aaw did you lose your boyfriend?"

"Sherlock.  Please. His been off the grid for nearly eight hours."

"What?" Mycroft was amazed how his brother went from annoyed to worry in less than a second.

"Why are you calling me only now?"

"I don't know."

"Where are you?"

"Whitehall."

"I'm on my way."

Mycroft and Sherlock went through all available avenues, tracing everything.  His car was last seen at an old warehouse and both decided that's where they need to start looking. 

It took those about thirty minutes to get to the warehouse.  By now it's almost nine hours that has passed.   His car was standing in front of the warehouse,  empty and locked.   Sherlock reached it first.

"Empty.  No sign of struggle or tampering."

Mycroft touched the hood.

"Engine cold, been here for hours." They looked at each other and then towards the door.   Mycroft quickly glanced at his car and nodded.   Anthea climbed out and made her way to them, three guns in her hand. She gave each one a gun and together they went inside. 

"We need to split up." Sherlock whispered.   Mycroft and Anthea nodded each taking a side and went that way. 

They search everywhere when Anthea's voice echoed through the place. 

"Here! Hurry!" Mycroft run as fast as he could to where the voice was coming from. 

He entered the door and nearly tripped.  Greg was laying on a metal bed, tied down and a recorder on his chest.  Sherlock was on his brother's heels and nearly collided with him. He pushed past his brother standing next to Anthea who by now has made several calls and took out a latex glove and picked up the recorded.

She looked at her boss who was bending over Greg.   His was taking Greg's heart rate and Sherlock was checking his vitals.

"Sir? The tape recorder has a message on."

Mycroft stopped and glanced at Sherlock who stopped and turned to her.

“Play it."

She pressed play and a man's voice came up.

"Dear Scotland Yard, let’s play a game.  How about 'I spy'? I'll start.   I spy with my little eye a poisoned detective..... hmmm I wonder what poison it is... Ooh isn’t this fun?"  Mycroft and Sherlock were in shock as they turned to Greg.  Still unconscious, his face pale and sweat on his forehead. Mycroft was angry and furious. 

"Anything you need Sherlock, Anthea, I do not feel like playing."

None of them did.

 


	285. Ritual

11\. . Ritual

Mycroft woke up with a fingers softly and gently tracing over his back and shoulders.   With a smile he shifted so his back was a little more exposed.  The fingers expanded and more of his back was softly being caressed.  Mycroft loved it, he would concentrate extra hard to memorise the moment into his memory. 

The fingers stopped and then slowly made their way up his back and neck towards his scalp.  It would run through his hair strands and the little curl in front of his head would be wrapped around a calloused finger.  Mycroft gave a small moan.

"Like that?" The voice was deep and sleepy. 

"Hmm. So calming."  Mycroft softly answered. The chest under him vibrated with mirth.

"Heard you thinking so I thought I'd chill your mind a bit."

"You chose an excellent way to do it."

"Thank you."

Mycroft continued to lay there in silence. It was still early morning, the air is just starting to lighten up a bit, in thirty minutes or so the alarm clock would be blaring and the rush of the day and the morning ritual would start.  It would be a quick shower, dressing around one another, him helping Greg with his tie, so he has an excuse to wrap his arms around the man.  Greg would button his waistcoat buttons and joked th8he can't wait to unbuttoned it again that evening.   Mycroft would blush but smile and Greg would kiss that smile.

But this moment,  this was for them, still sleepy from the night's rest, the hair all skew and tangled,  their legs intertwined and safely tucked away under the blankets.

"Love?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about your mind palace."

"What would you like to know?"

"Am I in there?"

"Yes."

"For real?"

"But of course.  You have your own wing, or better yet, you are like the panic room in mine, next to the bedroom."

"A bedroom and panic room?"

"The panic room is designed to offer protection, a safe haven and that's what you are to me.  Every time I feel threatened or the day becomes too much I retreat into my panic room, where you are. All around, your personality colours the wall, your smile becomes the door inviting me in, your eyes lock me safe inside and your body becomes like the air, surrounding me, covering me in warmth and safety."

Greg didn’t respond, he didn’t know what to say, so he just pulled Mycroft closer, wrapping his arms tight around him.

"If I had a mind palace, it would be you.   I love you so much."

 


	286. 12. Sway

12\. Sway

The dishes were stacked in the dishwasher, the glasses either empty or half empty. The atmosphere was soft and relaxed; the people around the living room were laid back into the sofa and recliners. 

Mycroft was sitting next to Greg, more accurately snuggled into his side.  Greg's arm was hanging across Mycroft's shoulders in a relaxed way. 

Mycroft's dad was sitting on the recliner towards the left and his mom on a rocking chair close to the fire.   Sherlock was on the other recliner next to his dad, opposite his mom. They were softly talking. 

It was Mummy's birthday and they made a weekend out of it. 

The fire was low and any moment someone would have to get up and added some more wood.

"I'm not doing it." Greg turned to Sherlock who sat with his long legs straight out, his hands fold and his eyes close. 

"Hmm." Greg couldn’t be bothered to speak. Apparently neither could Sherlock as he just pointed to the fire with his foot.

"You're the youngest." Greg smiled back as leaned back his parents looked at each other and back down.

"You're the only Lestrade." Greg eyebrows went up.

"That all you got?"

"Easiest thing I could think of." He retaliated

"And the only Lestrade is what you could come up with?"

"Not if I have a say in it." Mycroft spoke up for the first time.   Everyone looked at him. Greg was even more surprised. 

Mycroft sat up straight and finished his glass then he stood up and put more wood in the fire, acting as if nothing happened.   Greg looked at Sherlock.

"What the hell?" He mouthed.

Sherlock sat forward.  Shrugging and pulling his face. Mycroft's parents we're looking at each man in turn before settling on each other with a smile.  Mycroft in turned had put radio on, a soft melody filling the room.

"Gregory come dance with me."  Still surprise he got up and walked closer to Mycroft taking the hand offered to him. Together they started to sway along the music. 

"What did you mean My?"

"Exactly what you think I meant."

"Good.  Thought so."

While Greg and Mycroft swayed in the soft light with Sherlock and his parents watching every face was happy, every mouth had a smile and every heart was light.

 


	287. Lullaby

13\. Lullaby

Greg eyes opened when he realised his hand came up empty.   He looked across the bed; Mycroft's side was empty and the blanket halfway down.

He sighed.  This is the second time he woke up with Mycroft leaving the bed early. 

Taking a breath he pushed the blanket off his body and got up.   It was a nice summer day so he didn't bother with slippers or his gown.  

The light was on downstairs and he made his way down. 

He found Mycroft in his study, pouring over paperwork.

"Can't sleep?" Mycroft shook a little at Greg's voice. 

"Sorry.  Didn't mean to disrupt."

"It's all right. Just because I can't sleep is no reason for you to be awake as well."

Greg walked forward and sat down.

"Not the same without you." Greg picked up one of Mycroft's paperweights and started playing with it.

"Come on out with it."

"Out with?"

"Whatever it is that's bothering you?  That keeps you from sleeping?"

"I can't really talk about it."

"I know.  I don’t want specifics.  Give me a story as if in a movie, a plot line and bounce ideas and theories off of me." Mycroft put his pen down. 

“Okay."

For the next twenty minutes they discussed and talk about what's on Mycroft's mind. 

When they were done Mycroft looked relaxed and Greg was happy.

"All better?"

"Yes. Thank you Gregory."

"Awesome, can we go sleep now?"

"Yes.  I believe that we can, although I might have some difficulty getting to sleep now."

"Aw shall I sing you a lullaby?"

"I'm not a baby Gregory, besides you mostly know rock songs, doubt they'll lull me to sleep."

"I can jazz one up for you, personalised it for you."

"What 'I love rock and roll the Lestrade version?"

Greg smirked as they walked towards the stairs.   Mycroft walked in front Greg and halfway up Greg began to sing.

"I saw him there standing with a three piece suit,

And all my dreams became restricted to over seventeen.

My pulse was going strong

Beating for my perfect man

 

And I could tell I'd wouldn't be long

Till he was with me, yeah me,

And I could tell I'd wouldn't be long

Till he was with me, yeah me, singing

 

I love Mycroft Holmes

So take another swirl with your brolly baby

I love Mycroft Holmes

So hurry up and come dance with me."

 

Mycroft swirled around his eyes wide a blush creeping up his neck and settled on his cheeks.   Greg was into his song, singing loudly and head banging around Mycroft, using the stairs as his stage. 

He ended up in front of Mycroft's his eyes sparkling and a wide smile on his face.  

"Lestrade version 1.1 might have to work on a b...." he couldn't finish his sentence as he was pushed against the wall. 

"I think this is my favourite version."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely.  Tell me more about your dreams."

"They are over seventeen, are you over seventeen?"

"Yes sir."

 


	288. Collective whisper

14\. Collective whisper

It was Greg birthday, like every other year he refused to make something big out of it. Truth is,  he doesn't celebrate it, because for the past few years he mostly spend it alone anyway or in his office doing paperwork,  or let's not forget that one time he spent it in interrogating a suspect.  

Yeah fun times.

This year he was in a relationship with Mycroft. Mycroft who do not emphasise emotion and sentiment.

They'll probably have a nice dinner with good wine - oh did his wine palette expand since dating Mycroft - that's to say that Mycroft will be back in the country by then. 

The only thing that got him out of the bed that morning was the knowledge that he wasn't single and that his partner may actually be home today. 

Luckily the day was quiet and his team did have a small celebration in the break room for him, the cake was delicious.   He even managed to get a few slices to take home.

Home.  He sighed.  He didn't hear anything from m8but that was normal.   When he went home he was a little disappointed and depressed. 

As he opened the door he stopped.  There were small fairy lights and candles everywhere.  Soft piano music could be heard.   Slowly he walked into the dining room and his eyes widen. 

The most delicious and good smelling food was placed on the table,  champagne was in an ice bucket but the best part was Mycroft standing in his suit, holding a small wrapped package and a single long stem red rose.

"Happy birthday Gregory." Without thinking Greg walked over to him kissing him hard.

“I missed you so much.  I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too." He held out his package.

"This is for you."

Greg took the package. It was wrapped in shiny black paper with a red ribbon and silver card.

He quickly unwrapped the present. 

It was a book called “Collective whisper of hidden thoughts...”

He looked up at Mycroft who took a breath before explaining.

"It's everything I struggle to say."

Greg opened the book to read the inscription.

"Gregory.  May you find my voice and thoughts in here when my mouth struggles to say what I need to say."

He opened it to a random page and read the haiku by a Kirk Diedriech

"Wrap your arms around my dark heart

It's yours to own.

Lighten it with yours."

Greg turned to Mycroft, swallowing the lump back.

"Thank you."

 


	289. Constellation

15.. Constellation

There was a threat to London.   Sherlock in his bored voice replied ‘when isn't there a threat to London? But nevertheless he was on the case.  It wasn’t linked to terrorists or gangs.  This was one person with a grudge against the whole of government.

She was a doctor working in research when her son died of unknown causes.  It was a type of virus, however through the research and experimentation it has become so strained and advanced that there was no effective antibiotic to heal people.   It had the potential to cause an unknown level of concern and risk and the bar of panic was incredibly high.

One thing could be said, she was clever.  Dr. Abigail Abington warned people of the virus.  She realised a video explaining what she was about to do, with clear details of how the government failed her and how she is taking revenge. 

She is apparently taking revenge on the entire government and all government officials and workforce.   That means politicians, police force; health care anybody employed by the government instead of private sector organisations is at risk.  Her idea is to release the virus at one of these places and watched as it spread.

The police were called to investigate as it was originally thought as a conspiracy or a hoax.

Everyone was tensed and overworked.   The public had its eye on the police, they’ve been warned,  fail and it's chaos,  succeed and the did their job. 

Even Sherlock was stumped as he had no idea where to start looking.  She blamed the doctor for misdiagnosis; she blamed the hospital for not being able to give him a secure and safe environment.  She blamed the transport for not being able allows the ambulance to arrive on time.  She blamed the police for not arresting the doctor.  She blamed the government for corruption and decline of the city.  Since she blamed everyone it was incredibly hard to pinpoint a base for an attack.   It could literally be anyone, anyplace anytime.  

After two days of nonstop working and ideas Sherlock called in the help of Mycroft.  

They were sitting all around the boardroom.  Greg, Mycroft, John, Sherlock, Sally,  Dimmock even Anthea was trying to help.  By midnight on the third day Mycroft's jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up, Sherlock had circles under his eyes.  Greg had stubble and probably smelled bad of wearing the same clothes for three days.  There was a map of London on the table and with all the pins and notes it was a constellation of ideas and theories lying on the table. 

A break was called and Greg took the opportunity to get a quick shower.  As he stood there under the water he felt his muscles relaxing.   Why would a mother who lost her only son have such hatred?  He opened his eyes in shock.  Guilt. 

As quickly as he could he finished and dressed, he ran into the boardroom, half dressed, shirt half button up and hair still wet and dripping. 

"I got it."

Mycroft was too busy staring at Greg's half-dressed form to pay attention to what he was saying.

Sherlock luckily did.

"Got what?" He asked standing in front of Greg.

"She's covering her own guilt.   She was a doctor in charge of research?  What if she is carrier of the virus herself and accidentally infected her son? The guilt of killing her son was so overwhelming it caused mental trigger and now she blames government,  because she is a  government official and blame herself!"

Sherlock blinked.

"Of course!" Sherlock started throwing theories and ideas and ten minutes later they had it. Now they just needed an address.

Mycroft smiled for the first time since it began.   He always marvelled at how Sherlock and Greg could work together. 


	290. Texture

16\. Texture

Greg was in pain.  So much pain. He just wanted to crawl into his bed and not come out. 

He received the call early morning.  Mycroft's car was involved in an accident.   Mycroft condition was unknown.   As his partner and next of kin he was called immediately along with Sherlock. 

He was at the hospital before anyone else, Anthea was there waiting for him. Her arm was in a sling, scratches all over her face.   Greg didn't care that she could probably ruin his life, as he walked towards her and embraced her. 

"How are you holding up?"

She at first didn't react but then sagged against him.

She started crying.

"There was so much blood." He held her until she was calmed enough to focus on the here and now.

"His still in surgery.  Broke his leg in two places, his arm, several ribs. They had to cut the metal off of him!" Neither saw Sherlock coming around the corner but John's chocked of breath made them turn. He was paler than a ghost and Anthea's condition was bad enough.

John stepped closer.

"What are his chances?"

"14%" she whispered.

Greg closed his eyes in pain.

"He'll be fine." They turned to him.

"That's not much Lestrade." Sherlock responded.   Greg straightens his back.

"It's enough.  He’s Holmes and his Mycroft Holmes, his stubborn, hell his stubborn is stubborn, this will not break him or get him down and anyone who says different I'll arrest!  He's. Going. To. Be. Fine." He stressed out as tears began to fall.  Neither said anything.  

They waited for 5 hours before the doctor came out. 

"Here for M. Holmes?"

"That's us." Greg held his breath.

"He made it through surgery.   He's still in critical but he's chances have improved.  Greg felt like crying. He was not going to leave his bed. He turned to Anthea.

"Anthea. .."

"Already arranged. You and Sherlock can stay as long as needed."

Greg walked passed the doctor who tried to call him back but Greg didn't listen and neither did Sherlock as he followed Greg. 

Greg walked into the room and halted.  That cannot be Mycroft.  Sherlock stood next to Greg, also in shock. Greg stepped closer and sat down on the chair next to the bed.  He took hold of Mycroft's hand that was littered with wires.   It was cold.

He once read about how the mind can attach certain emotions to material and textures and he knows that he is doing it.  To him the texture of hope is the pulse in Mycroft's hand.

 


	291. Soften

17\. Soften

"I'm never ever getting out of this bed." Mycroft turned to Greg as he spread out on the bed, the sheets barely covering him up. A small played around his lips, Greg is the oldest yet can be the most childish when the situation called for it.

"Gregory, it’s time to get ready for work. Besides the bed and sheets will be here tonight."

"No." Greg replied as he made angel wings on the bed.

"Excuse me?" Mycroft asked as step closer. Greg looked at him from under his lashes the brown eyes sparkling and his mouth upturned into a cheeky smile.

"You heard me. This is the most comfortable bed ever with the softest sheets and the fluffy pillows. I'm staying right here today."

Mycroft took a breath and lifted his hands to his waist.

"My cleaning lady does have a way to soften these sheets it's quite comfortable."

"Quite. It's delicious. It's heaven."

"What about work."

"Oh sod it." Greg waved with his hand and then proceeded to shift deeper into the bed. 

"Gregory."

"Watch it, I just might refuse to let you back in."

"Oh the horror. Well I just go and get ready for work with a long shower. The hot water will just have to keep me company and oh I'll just have to use a washcloth to get the soap on my wet and silky skin. And I was so looking forward to wash your back." Mycroft said nonchalantly as he walked to the bathroom, taking off his gown and pyjamas. Greg swallowed as he watched him.

With a last glance he stepped into the shower leaving the door open. Greg watched and then jumped out of bed running into the shower.

"Thought as a policeman it would be my duty to make sure you are safe in the shower where it can be slippery."

"Oh indeed. I thank you for the sacrifice."


	292. Flawed

18\. Flawed

The plan was well thought out, every contingency worked out and taking into consideration.  The plan had a plan.  It was easy: go into Detective inspector Lestrade’s office, ask him for the files, enquire about his family say goodbyes and walk out. One, two, three, four and out the door.

Right.

One knock or two?

Two quick ones.

“Come in.”

“Good afternoon Inspector.”  Smooth and calmed. Good. Now for two.

“Hi Mycroft. How can I help?”

“My apologies for imposing but I’m here to pick up the Linetti files from the previous week?”

“Oh yes.  Here you go, I took it out this morning and double checked to see if its all in order.”

“Thank you.  That was kind.” On to three.

“How have you’ve been?  Family still good?”  Nice interested but not obsessive.

“Didn’t you hear?”

“Excuse me?” No no, he’s supposed to say fine thanks and yourself.  What happened?

“Sherlock didn’t tell you?  She left, decided to be with her PE teacher.  I’m actually looking for a good lawyer when you showed.”

Lawyer? affair?  That little tart.  I’m deporting her.

“If it’s not to imposing or personal, may I suggest an excellent lawyer, very affordable?” oh great now you’re calling him a cheapskate.

“Seriously.  Oh yes please.  That is great.”

“Right, ill sent the details over later today.”

“Great. Hey let me know if you need help with the files, maybe we can brainstorm together over coffee or lunch?”

Say no Mycroft, say no.  Oh no Gregory, stop looking at me like that. 

“That would be great.  Tomorrow perhaps?” Damn

“Great.  It’s on me.  I’ll buy you lunch, I know the perfect place.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Oh yes, the plan is so flawed.  He really should take Greg’s eyes and smile into consideration next time.

 


	293. Flaunt

19\. Flaunt

Mycroft look in the mirror, and then just to double check that the mirror was not indeed lying and presenting a hologram he looked down at his clothes.  No it was the same.  Maybe double check.  Nope the mirror and the real thing correspond.  He took a breath.

“Gregory you sure about this?”

“What?”

“I said…”oh why is he yelling at his partner while he is showering, it’s difficult to hear with water streaming down your face.  He turned around and walked to the bathroom.  At the door he turned back to the mirror. 

Look at that, his back and the mirror still correspond. 

“My?”  Greg voiced travelled about the noise.   Mycroft turned around and opened the door, just as Greg switched the water off.

“I said, are you sure about this?”  He repeated while waving his hands in front of his body.  Greg was staring. 

“Gregory?”

“Think I should turn the water back on. Ice cold, full blast.” Mycroft tilted his head and looked a bit lower than Greg’s torso.  Interesting.

“I take it you approve?”

“uuuh, yeah, definitely approve.”

“So the tight fitting navy jeans with the emerald top are acceptable?”

“Very.”

“I’m not sure about the V-neck, or the short sleeves.  It shows my freckles and chest hair.”

“Thank god for that.”

“I don’t want to share my freckles and chest hair with the world.”

“I’d hoped so, they are mine.  But you do know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“If you got flaunt it baby.  And heaven behold you got it.”

Yeah he feels tons better about his choice when Greg as promised turned the water back on, the cold one.

 


	294. Twilight

20\. Twilight

There was a certain chill in the air, the kind where the wind tries it's best to cut through your skin and make their way into the deepest marrow of your bones.

Dressed warmly in his parka, with his sheepskin boots Greg was standing outside the house.  

Mycroft was coming home. 

Three months, he has been gone for three months and today he is finally coming home.   He took a plane to the airport and then the helicopter is bringing him here to the small seaside town.   They've decided to catch up and also start a little impromptu holiday in which both had the week off.  The house they're staying at his warm and cosy.   The fire is burning, the hot chocolate ready in the mugs, just waiting for the boiling water.

Greg watched the twilight sky as if begging it to bring Mycroft home faster.   The clouds are changing into a melody of rainbow colours and Greg loved it.  You don’t see that every day.

A sound in the distance alerted him that something is coming.   He turned to the right and saw the small helicopter in the distance, increasing in size as Greg's anticipation decreases as it comes closer.  

He couldn't stop the smile on his face. 

Soon.

The noise became louder and the helicopter bigger, the surrounding trees bending over as the wind catches it.  The snow around his feet flutters up in the sky and surround Greg as if confetti at a wedding.  

The helicopter came to a stop a few meters away and the door opened.   Mycroft's long legs came out first then the rest of him with his suitcase.  The rest are already inside the house. 

Mycroft close the door and stepped back as the helicopter lifted again.  

Then he turned around to Greg and Greg didn't held back as he rushed over, Mycroft meeting him halfway.  They collided and embraced as if their lives and hearts depend on it.  They stayed like that while the snow danced around them before settling at their feet, and the chill wind blew away with the last colour of the twilight hours. 

When they parted they were smiling the exhaling air clouding in front of them. 

"Welcome home My." Greg whispered.

"I missed you." Mycroft whispered back as they stepped back, hands held tight and making their way inside. 

 


	295. Otherworldly

21\. Otherworldly

"I am in a meeting and it's running a bit longer than I thought.  MH”

Mycroft looked at the screen before he turned his attention back to the meeting.  Mr. Lewis was doodling his paper, 

Across the room Mr. Upshaw was texting his mistress and oh my Mr Clibborn is actually sleeping.  

The blinking light of his phone brought back his attention.

"Aww my poor man.   Shall I entertain you?  GL"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. 

"No. You should do your job. MH”

"Entertaining you is so much better, how about some new wallpapers? GL"

Before Mycroft could continue Greg was sending him various pictures.  It was all different and unique a genre he was quite unfamiliar with. 

"What is this genre? MH."

"Dunno.  Just typed in 'otherworldly art' GL."

"I like it, it's so liberating.  GL.”

"You would. MH."

"I love art. GL."

"What's your favourite time piece? MH "

"You spread out in the bed, trying to catch your breath any time of day. GL"

"Gregory!!  MH"

"Ooh.  Is that a double exclamation mark? GL "

"I asked you what you're favourite art is? MH"

"I answered.   You.

Ooh by the way.

Just got down from the kitchen, 

We have strawberries.

And a can of whipped cream….  GL"

"How do you know, you’re supposed to be at work? MH."

"Creative right.   Ooh the strawberries are delicious.  I'm thinking of busting out the cream. GL"

"Don't.  MH "

"Alone?  MH "

"You're welcome to join. 

I'd prefer it. GL."

"Let me get out of this meeting. MH "

"I'll keep the cream cold. GL."

"Love you.”

"Love you."

 


	296. Demure

22 demure

Greg was Mycroft’s date to the opening of a new play; his parents insisted that they go, even John and Sherlock.   A family outing.   It was quiet and intimate and so far a huge success. 

Greg and John went to the bathroom while the brothers stayed with their parents.   As Greg came out he watched Mycroft standing half in the corner looking like a Victorian gentleman.   Greg had a thought of even go as far to say 'a demure figure.' A thought crossed his mind.

He walked over to them Mycroft turned to him with a smile then gave a slight frown, knowing instantly Greg was up to something.  He moved a little to the side so that when Greg came close they had some privacy.

Greg leaned in and whispered.

"May good sir, I caught sight of you from across the room and thought I must get this dashing fellow's name."

Mycroft smiled and held out his hand, playing along. "Mycroft and unfortunately I'm here with someone...”

"Oh that won't do, I must steal you away."

"That would be kidnapping." 

"It's okay; I'm with the police force."

"Well in that case I do believe that I can surrender myself safely in your custody."

"That's excellent news.”

"Greg, Mikey, the show is about to start shall we go in?" Mycroft's mom asked as she stepped closer.   Greg took a step back and turned to her.

"Yes." Mycroft stepped in between them.

"We will follow shortly mother, Gregory and I need to discuss something quickly." Shrugging they went back inside.   Mycroft pushed Greg into a private corner and kissed him. 

They resumed the play about ten minutes later; as they were comfortable Mycroft's mom leaned over to them.

"I don’t mind you coming in late, however Greg you missed a button when you buttoned up and Mikey, you’ve switched from a half Windsor knot to a kelvin knot, doesn't match the suit."

 


	297. Clear

23 clear

Mycroft hated this; he was standing next to Greg in front of the mirror.   That wasn't what he hated though. 

The thing was they were both completely naked.   That wasn’t what Mycroft hated, he loooovveddd seeing his Gregory naked, he could stare for hours. 

He hated the fact that he was naked as well. 

Greg was taking a shower when Mycroft was done and walked towards his closet.   Undecided as to what to wear he stood in front of the lines of clothes.

He was so in his mind that he didn't realise Greg was done and standing behind him.  

"Hmmm, this is one spectacular view." Mycroft spun around to see Greg standing with his hand folded and leaning against the doorway.  

"I didn't realise you were done." He tried to explain as he looked for something to cover him up. 

"If you did would you have stand naked in here?"

"No of course not."

Greg was confused.

"Why does my presence make a difference?"

"Because I don't want you to see me naked."

"But I've seen you naked before, I even undressed you several times."

"I know, but that's different as the chemical composition in your brain is different."

"Different?"

"Yes, you have an increase in oxytocin and dopamine which influence your normal behaviour which means you don't care how I really look as you’re...."

"As I'm thinking of sex."

"Yes."

Mycroft stated as he gave up his pretence to find something to cover him up and just sagged his shoulders as he waited for whatever is about to happen.   Greg watched as Mycroft gave up and his heart was breaking, he walked towards Mycroft and stood before him. Mycroft was still looking down as Greg stood in front of him until Greg wrapped his arms and pressed himself against his body.

"Wha... Gregory?"

"Look at us." He whispered and turned to the mirror.  Mycroft didn't move.

"My.  Please." Mycroft turned his head slowly until their eyes caught in the mirror. 

"Look at us; you have pale and long lean legs, causing the perfect contrast to my bigger, wider and brown legs.  Look at how the roundness of your arse allows fitting my hands perfectly to hold you close. 

Look at your strong and long back bedazzled with the most amazing freckles I've ever seen to allow you to stand higher and taller than me so I fit perfectly against your chest, mine may be broader but it does allow a strong pillar for you to rest against me.

This is perfect this is how we fit perfectly and I love every inch, regardless of how pale, how much freckles or how many inches there are.  It's because of who you are that increases my oxytocin and dopamine and whatever else. Look at me and tell me what you see."

Mycroft looked at them,  his eyes covering every part of them,  allowing himself to finally seeing what Greg was seeing, acceptance,  acceptance for how he look and for what they are.   This gave him to see him accept how he looks and finally it was clear.

"I see love. Perfectly imperfect accepting love."


	298. Undertow

24 undertow

Mycroft watched Greg as he packed his stuff, a few personal belongings he managed to accumulate over the years. 

Mycroft silently shook his head, so far there was two ties all crumpled and pushed to the back of one drawer.

Those ties will never be the same again.  Mycroft mouth opened in shock as he watched as Greg bundle the two together then attempt to roll it up simultaneously with one hand before he pushed it into a corner of the box.

"Oh Gregory. “he softly mumbled.  

Why did he have to go and fall for a man like that?  

Although Greg hardly knew of his existence and if he did, it's because he's Sherlock's brother.  

There were two officers standing at the doorway watching him as if he is some kind of criminal.

Mycroft face flashed in anger.  Stop treating his Gregory as a criminal.  He wanted to shout, but had to contain himself, also since he was watching through a camera, it’s not like he will be heard.

He could see clearly that this was affecting Greg.   The man looked defeated.  

One day and everything changed.  Sherlock was dead, or supposedly, Mycroft knew better, but it didn't comfort him as he watched Greg's suffering. He was suspended with an investigation pending.   He is too be escorted out of the building with his personal belongings. 

Mycroft frowned when he saw how little there actually was. He was apparently done but the box was half full.   Besides the ties there were a few books, some gum, and other random stuff.   No photos.  

He watched as Greg eyes ran over the room one last time and Mycroft felt his gut twisting, this was all so wrong.  Gregory is paying for their mistakes.  His and Sherlock's.

This was never in the plan; unfortunately Greg got caught up in the undertow.

His eyes were glued as he left this building, Sergeant Donovan tried to talk to him, but even Mycroft could feel the hatred and rage in his eyes as he stared her down, she started crying and ran out. Greg didn’t even blink as he walked out, his two escorts following him until he reached the cab.

This was all wrong.

Mycroft had no idea how to fix this. 

Somehow, in all of this they broke Greg, and now he is all alone with no one to support him or put him back together again. 

 


	299. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 300 ladies and gentlemen! 
> 
> This means only 66 to go. Don't know if I should be relieved or or disappointed. 
> 
> Anyway.   
> Enjoy

25\. Tomorrow

Greg and John decided that tonight was pub night. It was a Saturday night, there was karaoke at the bar and even a special of every third drink is on the house. So yes, they thought it an excellent idea to go out. 

Their partners were not too happy with the prospect of a pub and so many people so Greg said they don't have to come. John agreed and suggested they go sort a national crisis or invent a new Rubik cube or something. 

So Greg left Mycroft at Baker Street and off they went. 

So far there have been no problems and their phones were quiet. That meant that whatever they are doing, it didn't need their intervention yet. 

Greg and John were on the fifth beer when he decided he will release the inner rocker in him and go do a karaoke number. 

"Queen" he blurted out. John frowned.

"What's that?"

"Queen. Is always a good choice for karaoke. The lyrics are well known, the band is well-known, and everyone loves a good Queen song."

"Are you serious?"

Greg nodded and stood up.

"I'm going to write my name down. You get us refills." With that Greg left to go sign his name up. John ordered their refills and got a smile on his face. He'll invite the brothers for the show.

"Cemo here. Greg's ganno sing. Careoke. JW"

Smiling he walked back to their table putting the beer down on the table. It was another free round.

They were halfway through the beer when Mycroft and Sherlock appeared at their table. 

"Gregory?" Greg spun around his face in the widest smile ever.

"My! What are you doing here?"

Mycroft sat down next to Greg while Sherlock moved to sit next to John.

"I heard you signed up to entertain the lovely people." Greg turned to John.

"You texted him to come and see?" John nodded.

"Thought he might like the show."

Greg just smiled and took hold of Mycroft's hand.

"I am..." Greg turned to look at them and said louder "... then we're doing tequila shots."

"Yea!" John agreed while the brothers looked at one another and shook their heads. Greg saw that and held up his finger.

"Yes you are and you're going to enjoy it."

"Yes, actually I'm going to get some now." John declared as he stood up and went to buy some. In the meantime they called for Greg to go do his number. 

"Wish me luck baby." He joked as he gave Mycroft a kiss. Mycroft was so in shock that by the time he wanted to say something Greg was already standing on the stage. The music started playing and Greg started singing. He was hardly done with the first line when it was clear he could sing and do it well. The crowd loved him and cheered him on. Mycroft and Sherlock was staring dumbfounded, never realising that Greg had such a good voice and stage personality. 

When he was done it took him longer to get back to the table as everyone wanted to hug him, buy him a drink or the girls wanted to give him his number. He would just smile and politely declined, while Mycroft was getting more and more jealous. Instead of sitting down he leaned over to whisper in Mycroft's ear.

"Did you enjoy that? I only saw you up there, my baby."

"Did you just call me baby?" Greg smirked as he sat down.

"Second time." His eye caught the tequila and he lifted it up.

"Together?" He asked everyone and they just followed. Sherlock pulled his face while Mycroft tried to keep his face neutral.

What is this stuff?" Sherlock asked with a cough. Greg leaned forward.

"This is the taste of 'I'm not getting up tomorrow.'


	300. Crescendo

 26. Crescendo

 

Mummy Holmes looks next to her, her eldest and his partner Greg.   They looked fantastic in their matching suits, the only difference is whereas Mycroft was wearing a silver silk tie and cufflinks, Greg was wearing a gold silk one with gold cufflinks.   The meaning so clear yet so subtle.  

 

She turned to her husband smiling widely. Seeing her happiness and the tears in her eyes he lifted her hand and kissed her palm.  This was a big deal to both of them.   Neither ever thought that Mycroft would get involved with a man, yet here they were.   At a orchestra concert. Together.  The Hall was filled with people yet her attention was on her two boys, yes she consider Greg just as part of the family now.

 

She could see Greg was itching to take Mycroft's hand and Mycroft shared a similar problem, so they opted for more casual touches, straighten the ties, making sure the cufflinks are shiny and so forth.  She found it adorable.

 

As the orchestra began to play they sat upright hands in their laps, as the music progressed they would slowly shifted towards one another, their hands slowly gravitating to each other and just when the crescendo reached it highest point their hands clasped,  fingers interlacing tightly.   Their thighs were pressing against one another and as she looked at them Mycroft was whispering in Greg’s ear and Greg was trying to hide his amusement.  Greg used his free hand to place on top of their clasped hands and slowly caressed Mycroft thumb.  

 

Mummy couldn't stop the tear that fall at after all these years of worries and pain her son was finally happy.  Her gratitude for Greg are bound by nothing but her undying love and understanding of a mother's heart.

 

 

 

 


	301. Prism

27 prism

Mycroft was tired, he has been trying to find a solution for a small political problem since dawn, and it was nearing lunch.   Putting the pen down he sat back in his chair, stretching the muscles in his back and arms as lifted them up.

This was getting tiresome, he glanced at his watch.  Greg would be here soon they arranged to have lunch together as they've been unable to see each other as much as he would like.  

With his mind made up he called that lunch be prepared and to be brought in when ready.  Waiting for Greg he packed away most of the papers and made sure his desk was clean enough for food and drinks. 

Ten minutes later Greg came in the same time their lunch was brought in. 

Greg waited for the servant to push the trolley all the way in and left the office before he made his way to Mycroft.   Mycroft met him halfway with a passionate kiss

"Someone's glad to see me." Greg joked

"Very. Always." Mycroft replied as he gave him another kiss before he stepped back and indicated that they should start dinner.   Since it was lunch and both working he poured them sparkling grape juice instead of the wine. 

Greg eyed the food.

"This looks delicious."

"I'll pass my compliments to the chef."

They started eating, the food divine and the conversation easy and flowing.  They were halfway done when Greg dig into his pocket and took out a small package. 

"I saw this today, thought of you and brought it." Mycroft took the package and opened it.  It was a small crystal statue, a small umbrella that was open against a pole while small droplets of light blue crystals were dangling above it.  It was fine and exquisite.   As he held it in the light the crystal and its triangular bases was cascading a prism of rainbow light across the table.   He loved it.

"This is magnificent Gregory."

"Yeah."

"Yes.  Thank you."

"You're welcome." Long after lunch Mycroft would stare at the small umbrella on his desk, looking at the rainbow light.   Greg brought the light into his life and just like this statue, he did it with a rainbow of colours.

 


	302. Autumnal dawn

28.  Autumnal dawn.

Mycroft knew Greg was in a not so good mood when the door was just below a slam but still loud enough not to qualify for a click.

Putting the book down he stood up to meet him.   Greg was in the hallway struggling with his coat and the arms which obviously didn't help his mood. 

"Gregory, is everything all right?" Greg mumbled something incomprehensible so Mycroft took a step closer.

"Sorry my dearest, I didn't catch that."

"I'm fine, may be old and grey but not completely useless." Mycroft frowned.

“What happened Gregory?"

Greg finally got his coat off but his shirt was all askew and hair all twisted in every direction,  Mycroft loved the bit of dishevelled look on Greg,  it made him look like a naughty schoolboy. 

"A witness today, she’s in her twenties and calls me an elder man in his autumn years! Autumn years My, like some man halfway in the grave waiting for winter to eat him up." Mycroft tried to keep the corners of his mouth twitching.   Poor Gregory. 

He stepped closer and placed his hands on his shoulder.  He lowered his voice as he leaned into Greg's space.

"I can testify that you're anything but elder or halfway in your grave." That had an immediate impact as Greg instantly relaxed and leaned into Mycroft, holding on to him.

"Yeah"

"Oh yes, you are very much alive and well and if see wants to compare you to seasons I'd say a late summer twilight or and early autumnal dawn, the best yet to come."

"That's sounds lovely, see a description like that I can handle."

"I'm glad; shall we have an early dinner so you can show me just how much my word was appreciated?"

"Yes.  Dinner better be a good piece of steak, so I can show my appreciation all night long."

"Perfect."

 


	303. Blur

29\. Blur

Greg followed the ambulance to the hospital; he knew it would be futile as the man won't say anything. When he was loaded onto the stretcher and into the ambulance he could see the man was American with a high level security badge in his wallet. 

Still, procedures need to be followed. 

He walked down the hallways, an unsettling feeling in his stomach, something is wrong and that man wanted something from Sherlock for some reason. He hasn’t had a case with the detective since the man in the boot of the car and a passport and plane ticket in his possession. 

The paranoia feeling returned tenfold when he saw a familiar figure was standing at the end of the hall next to the victim's room. This was very tricky he and Mycroft is still trying to find an even footnote for their relationship. They just passed from friends to more than friends, on the verge of lovers.

Trying his best to prepare himself mentally he walked over to Mycroft.

"Mycroft." Mycroft turned around. Quickly looking around before he spoke. 

"Gregory. What are you doing here?"

"The American. I need to follow up on that."

"The one who got hurt at Baker Street?"

"Yes. Apparently it was an accident." Mycroft lips twitch.

"How many times did he fell?"

"According to Sherlock it became a bit of a blur." They were quiet when the curiosity got the better of Greg and he had to know.

"Why are you here?" Greg knew that was the wrong thing to say as Mycroft clearly shut down in front of him.

"That's none of your business. Detective."

"Mycroft I didn't mean anything by it." Mycroft was so busy shutting down and trying to keep his mind focused that he ignored Greg and continued.

"He's an American diplomat. I can assure you I have a lot more merit to be here than you." It was late, Greg was tired, and now both Holmes brothers have undermined him and he wasn't in the mood.

"What the hell Mycroft! I said I didn't mean anything by it."

"I should ask you what you are doing here."

"Excuse me? I'm a detective, it’s my job to investigate this further."

"There's no need. The case will be taken over by me."

"You're taking my case?"

"You and Scotland Yard do not have to concern yourself with this matter I'm sure there something petty to do like car theft." Greg stared at Mycroft, his face turning from anger to pain. Mycroft was over tired and the business with Irene and the American and Moriarty is working on his nerves, which caused him to fail to notice how much his words were hurting Greg. 

"Car theft, so is just the failure of the whole yard you're questioning or mine?"

"Gregory, don't be absurd. I'm too busy to placate you."

"Placate me?"

"As I said I am busy and this ordeal with this man and going after Sherlock is really adding more to my plate. So to answer your initial question, yes I am taking over the case as it has never been yours to begin with."

Greg was silent, Mycroft’s words reverberating through his mind. If he was so incompetent, what does Mycroft hope to accomplish by being with him. 

He took a deep breath.

"I see, hope you're case goes well and I'll just make myself scarce before anyone thinks you actually know me. Good day." Before Mycroft could say anything Greg was walking away.

"Gregory." He called after him but Greg ignored him and walked away.


	304. Dirge

30\. Dirge

Greg woke up to one of the most horrible sounds he has ever heard in his life.  The drip drip of soft raindrops.   Normally he loved the sound of rain but not when it was underneath him.

His eyes opened and it took a moment to clear before he could see outside the windscreen.  He was upside-down.   The last thing he remembered was a fight with Sherlock and Mycroft.   They were at a crime scene and Mycroft stopped by before he and Sherlock had their usual banter.   Greg tried to intervene and received nothing but harsh words in return.   Sherlock called him an idiot that should focus on his job instead of the fight he has with Mycroft.  Mycroft said that as much as he appreciates the support, he can do without it.  Greg got pissed off and walked away. 

That was two hours ago in the afternoon.  

He was still irritated as he drove home later that evening and in his rush to get back to the office he misjudged the rain and wet roads,  consequently he took the corner a little too fast,  lost control of the vehicle and rolled it.  It came to a stop on its roof.

That must have been some time ago as the water that accumulated in the car was a small puddle.  

His cell phone was still in his pocket.   He hopes it's still working. 

He looked around his vision occasionally blurring, must be a concussion.   Closing his eyes to stop the nausea he fiddled with his safety belt to free himself. 

The click sound was loud and he screamed in pain as he fell to the floor, the water splattering against his body.   He laid there for another few minutes trying to control his breathing and dizziness.  After a while he opened his eyes, giving a small pained smile to see his level with the ground.  That would help his dizziness.  

The next thing he needed to do was call someone. Lifted his arm he tried to search his pocket for the phone.  He frowned.  "What?”  He groaned out.  He couldn't feel his legs, his hands was on his thigh in his pocket, yet he couldn't feel it. He could feel his heart rate increasing, his brain mind going into panic. 

"St...ay c....a...l..m" he tried to tell himself.  His fingers numb from the cold and rain he pulled out his phone and pressed the buttons. 

He pressed '1' on his speed dial. 

"Gregory?" The voice came as if it was a rainbow through the rain.

"M.m....y" Greg couldn’t understand how he was having difficulty to speak; nor why the water streaks on his screen looked red..

"Gregory!" The voice rose in tone, the panic clear.

"Where are you?"

"Ac..ci...nt"

"I'll find you, just stay on the line."

Greg wanted to tell him not to worry,  he knows Mycroft will find him, he just wanted to know why he can't feel anything,  nor why it stopped being cold. Inhaling as much as he could he spoke.

"Know. Stuck in c.car."

Mycroft must work very fast as he could hear sirens in the background, or not if the way Mycroft is screaming his name or to stay awake.   He didn't remember dosing off.

"Gregory! Talk to me!"

"My." His voice was soft and his eyes focused on the raindrops slowly falling and running down the screen,  two drops were trying to beat each other down and with the wind howling through the cracked glass of other windows it sounded like the prelude to a dirge of something sad.  The sky already crying in anticipation of what's coming.

He could see the water changing in colour red, blue, red, blue, red, blue...it was beautiful. 

"GREG!" Greg blinked since when does Mycroft use the shortened version of his name?"

"Hhmmm."  He tried for Mycroft but just the 'm" came out.

"Listen and listen clearly, the ambulance just arrived and you better stay awake and alive or there will be consequences."

Greg wanted to reply, he wanted to reassure him, but he couldn't.   He couldn't speak anymore, however his eyes were staring into the medics. He'll stay awake.

 


	305. Hidden

31\. Hidden

Mycroft and Greg sat next to one another,  Mycroft looked as though he was already extremely bored with the situation,  Greg was leaning back,  his arms stretched out on the back of the sofa, the most cheeky and smug smile he could muster. 

In front of them stood Sherlock, his hands on his hips, his face focused on the two men in front of them.   John was standing in the back trying his utmost best to keep his laughing under control. 

"John, you might as well seized the attempt at seriousness, you’re clearly having fun." Mycroft rolled his eyes and Greg just grin just got wider, which drew Sherlock's attention.

"Stop smiling.  You look as though the cat who got away with the cream." Greg smile didn't falter.

"Oh I did, the cream, the butter, the whole dairy farm actually."

"Ugh" Sherlock turned away while Mycroft looked at Greg and the expression on his face, made Greg's heart melt.  It's as though Mycroft really couldn't understand how a person can feel like that towards him.  In response Greg removed his arm from behind Mycroft and grabbed Mycroft’s hand on his lap.  Mycroft gripped it tight and covered it with his free hand. 

Sherlock turned back.

"How long have this been hidden?"

"Five years."

"Six months." They both said simultaneously.   Sherlock frowned and Greg and Mycroft looked at each other in confusion.

Greg's smile left his face and he leaned forward.

"Since we met." He softly asked and Mycroft nodded.

"Of course. I knew back then there'd be no one else." He softly said his eyes not leaving Greg's.  Sherlock was making gagging noises in the background but neither cared.

"You know the day I met you, I know you were going to put my life on a course I haven't sailed before."

Mycroft face softened even more.  

"After my brother's interrogation about our relationship shall we go have dinner?"

"Oh yes."

"Leave now! Both of you."  Sherlock cried out as he stood there watching the display of affection.  Mycroft and Greg looked at each other and then towards Sherlock. They stood up at the same time, their hands still clasped together.  Mycroft picked up their coats while Greg picked up Mycroft's umbrella before walking out together.

"Goodbye Sherlock, John."

"Cheers guys." Sherlock stood there in silence as he watched them leaving before he walked towards the window and looked out.  They must have put on their coats as they walked down the stairs.   There was no black car; instead they interlaced their hands again before they walked down the pavement.


	306. Light a candle. . .

1\. . Light a candle               

Mycroft came home and stopped at his front door; he tilted his head and reached for the note taped to the door. Next to the note was a small plastic bag taped and inside was a candle.

"Hey love, don't put on the light, light the candle...”

Frowning Mycroft took out the candle of the bag and opened his front door.  He stepped in to the dark house, the full moonlight providing enough light for him not to bump into the furniture.

He took of his coat and jacket and places his umbrella in its usual holder. 

With the candle he looked down to see there was fairy lights on the floor, at the end where he stood were another note.  He bends down and picks it up.

"Turn me on ;) "

"Smiley faces, really Gregory." He mumbled bit still switch it on. He gasped.  The light went on both sides and created a pathway through the house.   With the candle he started walking, every five or six metres there was a rose on the floor.  A different coloured one. 

The pathway went all the way out to the veranda outside and he stood as if frozen.   The fairy lights were hanging all over the place with small candles on the scattered around.   In the table was set in beautiful and elegant colours.  The vase was empty but there was water in.  The candle holders we're each missing a candle.

He looked around. 

"Gregory?"

"Here Love." Mycroft turned around to see Greg was standing behind him.   Greg was also holding a candle. 

"Have you been behind me the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Honestly? Well to be all deep and emotional this is a way to show no matter where you're going in life I'll be following you."

Mycroft didn't know what to say so he just leaned forward to kiss him.  Greg smiled in the kiss before he pulled away.

"Come on, dinner is getting cold, bring your candle and flowers, it’s the table decorations."

"It's what?"

"Our candles and your flowers together for all to see.  We belong together, we burn our lights together."

True to his word, their candles fitted nicely in the candleholder and the flowers in the vase.  Needless to say it was a beautiful night.

 

 


	307. Veil

 2. Veil

 

It was with uneasy steps that Greg walked down the street.   The word running through his mind. 

 

It was a case in one of those mystic shops. The ones we're you can anything from essential oils to Wicca candles.   There was a woman who could read your tea leaves, your palm and one with tarot cards. 

 

Greg have never been the most spiritual or aura gifted person, yet the words the lady said today was hitting a little heart string that makes him want to pay attention. 

 

He climbed the first steps that would either lead him to his heaven or hell.

 

"Hi guys." He greeted the two men in the entrance as he normally does.  They didn't greet him back.  They never do.

 

Nonetheless he made his way to the elevator and pressed in Mycroft's floor.  He looked down at his hands, it was shaking.  The door opened and he continued down the hallway until he came to a stop at a door.  Mycroft office was behind this door, first a small waiting area where his secretary sits and then another door to his office. 

 

He closed his eyes and let the words of the woman calmed him. Taking a breath he opened the door and made his way inside.  

 

Anthea was there.

 

"May I please see him? I know I didn't make an appointment but this is important."

 

She gave him a quick smile before she stood up and went into Mycroft's office; she came out less than a minute.

 

"You may go in."

 

"Thank you." As he walked into the office he couldn't help but smile.   Mycroft was sitting in his chair, straight up and was closing files.

 

"Detective Inspector what an unexpected surprise.  Is everything all right, you did say this was important."

 

"Mycroft.  Yeah,  um everything is fine,  or at least I think so." Now that he was here he didn't know how to start. Mycroft frowned.

 

"You look a little..." Mycroft tried to find the right word but couldn’t so he settled on the next best thing.

 

".....lost"

 

Greg stepped closer until he stood in front of the desk.

 

Here goes.

 

"Mycroft if I came around. .....you know what I'll just take the risk." Greg pushed himself back and walked around the desk to Mycroft’s side who was staring at him.  Greg walked up to Mycroft and grabbed his jacket and pulled him up. Mycroft was so shocked he didn't protests as he was pulled out of his chair.

 

"Don't deport me okay?" Greg said before he crashed their lips together.  Mycroft stood frozen until his brain caught up and gave his mouth the signal to open his mouth and participate.   When Greg pulled away knowing he messed up he found him being pulled as well and Mycroft tongue was fighting to get into his mouth.  Greg didn't surrender that easily and fought back.   Mycroft gave an audible groan that sent Greg's brain in overdrive and his whole body responded.   By the time they parted Mycroft was halfway lying on his desk with Greg leaning over. Mycroft was clutching Greg so tightly he thought he might rip his shirt.

 

Greg opened his eyes the same time Mycroft did.  The rawness and openness in Mycroft's made Greg's heart bursting with compassion.

 

"That was amazing." He whispered as he trailed his fingers down Mycroft's cheek.

 

"It was definitely not how I expected my day to turn out."

 

"Me neither but I'm so glad, may I take you out for dinner."

 

"Only if you kiss me again." Greg smiled and did as he asked.  The second time they parted Mycroft got a little more focus back.

 

"What lead this on?"

 

"Long story short, a woman slapped my arm today while at a crime scene, asked me when I am going to be man enough to go after what I wanted.   Said I must not be afraid as I have to see beyond the veil of coldness and uncaring my man hides beneath as he feels the same.   So the only thing I want is you, and I always knew there's more than meets the eye with you.   So I stepped up and well...." here he faltered for the first time.

 

"Well....?" Mycroft asked still holding on to Greg.  Greg looked into Mycroft's eyes.

 

"I was going to confront you, ask you out first, but then I saw you behind the desk, looking happy to see me and I just couldn't wait anymore."

 

"I'm quite glad."

 

"Good, that’s good; I wasn’t sure how it was going to be received.   So dinner?"

 

"You already asked, I said yes, and if you'd please be so kind do you think you can kiss me again?"

 

"I can kiss you all day long."

 

"Promise?"

 

 

 

 

 


	308. Harmony

3\. . Harmony

 

John was exasperated, as always instead of knocking on the door he decided to go around the back and surprise the couple inside.  

 

The couple of course who'd be his brother and Greg.  Sherlock was surprised to find out that on several occasions Mycroft forgo his apartment and spent weekends and even weeknights at Greg's place   the back door was open and the sounds of a game could be heard.   They made their way inside and into the living room.   Sherlock stopped in his tracks and stared at the scene in front of him.  Greg was sitting upright and Mycroft must be lying on the sofa with his head in Greg’s lap, his feet were crossed at the ankles and resting on the armrest.   He was barefoot.

 

"Oh come on!" Greg cried out. 

 

"Is that another penalty?" Mycroft's smooth voice asked. 

 

"No love, that’s a score and the ref is totally bought, you should deport him."

 

John said Sherlock stared at each other before turning back to hear Mycroft's response.

 

"First thing Monday my dearest, before the meeting with Greece's president"

 

"Good, hey you should ask him what part he would suggest for a holiday."

 

"Holiday?"

 

"Yup, oh what the hell? The ref is totally blind."

 

"Instead of deportation maybe I should book an optometrist appointment?"

 

"Probably.  How's the book?"

 

"Sentimental and idiotic. There’s why too much romance and betrayal and emotions."

 

"Hey you wanted to read that, I said we should just watch the miniseries."

 

"You just want to see the men in their suits especially Damian Lewis as Soames Forsyte."

 

"Ah a tall, impressive ginger in a three piece suite, I wonder why...”

 

"Hmm.  Not happening Gregory you might as well focus on your game."

 

"Aah love, the only ginger in a suit that weakened my resolve is you."

 

"It better be, before I deport you."

 

"Just so you know as I've said before, a sunny place with awesome cocktails."

 

"With my skin?"

 

"Oh you're coming with?"

 

"Have to make sure you're exhale is thorough."

 

"That's sounds. ... oh come on, that's not a penalty!"

 

John was smiling and Sherlock was speechless, his brother and Greg went from one topic to the other in perfect harmony.   They were really the personification of the idiom; two sides of the same coin...  he was actually happy for them.   But the game is boring and he needs to harass his brother on his reading material, time to announce their presence.

 

 

 


	309. Song

4.. Song

 

Beep.  Beeep bep. Beep. Beeeb. Beb...it was a constant rhythm of beatings.   Mycroft would stare at the machine, one hand firmly in Greg’s, the other on his chest feeling the rise and fall of the beatings as it coincide with the machine.

 

Greg was hurt, not in line of duty, no; he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.  They were walking at a country fair, having a ball, Mycroft's parents we're there and Sherlock and John.   Greg either ate something or something bit him as all of a sudden fell down with a severe allergic reaction.   Mycroft was very grateful that John was there to save his life as he had to perform an emergency tracheostomy when Greg was suffocating.  Mycroft was so glad that their drinks had straws in...

 

Whatever it was, it was instant. By the time the ambulance arrived Greg was unconscious with a straw through his throat.  

 

Now, he was on life support as the straw was replaced with a tube. It was horrible.  Mycroft was scared, no petrified, he refused to leave Greg's side. His parents were sitting in the one corner Sherlock and John was in the lab, Sherlock insisted on running his own tests, John helping him.

 

The beeping became irregular and Mycroft’s eyes shot open, his attention to the monitor.   There was a slight movement in his hand and he realised Greg was awake, squeezing his hand.

 

"Gregory?" He whispered softly standing to look into Greg's brown eyes.  It was filled with fear and uncertainty.

 

"Shh my dearest.  Don't be afraid." And just like that in front of everyone Greg heartbeat evened out and became steady again.  Mycroft was overcome with emotions as Greg relaxed regardless of how scared he was, at Mycroft's voice.  

 

"You need your rest; I'll explain everything when you're better.  Right now just hold on to my hand, listen to my voice, you once said it was your favourite song and sound, so listen and be calm."

 

Mycroft's parents we're amazed at the sight before them, and they knew everything was goingto be okay. 

 

 

 

 


	310. Heart comes loose

 5. Heart comes loose

 

Greg was working late.  Again.  He didn't plan on it, it just the way things were going on at the moment.  

 

In all fairness he hated the idea of working late, especially since he had a reason to go home to.

 

Thinking of Mycroft these days are a sure way of getting him to smile like either an idiot  (according to Sherlock) or a high school teenager (Sally) Greg couldn’t care less,  even if he tried. 

 

He glance at the stack of papers, why come the detective in the movie last night wasn't so overwhelmed with paperwork.

 

Aah, maybe it's because they are American detectives.... Yeah that's it.  

 

He looked at his empty coffee mug and back to the papers.  If he finished the small stack on his left, he can get another coffee and then finish the stack on floor...

 

Greg quickly surveyed the office to make sure he was alone before he plugged in his headphones.   A little music to help him along. 

 

 

 

Mycroft decided on surprising Greg at work, he finished late as well and asked his driver to go round the Yard, if he is lucky he can convince Greg to go home with him.

 

'Luck?' As if, he is Mycroft Holmes he doesn't need luck, he’s got skills. 

 

With a holder containing two coffees he made his way through the desks and area towards Greg’s office.   The light was on, and Greg was doing paperwork.  His headphones we're on and Mycroft could see him singing along.   He slowly opened the door, Greg was still unaware, and Mycroft stepped in, shaking his head at his partner's inability to sense another presence.  Usually he does, this must mean he is really concentrating hard.  He listened to Greg as he sang, now audible.

 

"You came as a hero in a story book

 

Freeing me from every crook

 

With your love you removed the noose

 

Finally my caged heart comes loose.

 

Oh baby. .......oh oooohhh baby. ...."

 

Mycroft didn't know the song, but he did know what the words meant as he had the same mind-set when it came to Greg. 

 

He stepped closer and placed the coffee on the table.  Greg nearly fell out of his chair as was caught off guard.

 

"What?" He yelled until he saw Mycroft and calmed down and Mycroft’s heart clenched at the face Greg gave, a smile so pure and open, eyes sparkling brighter than the queen's tiara, and he would know.

 

"My!"

 

"Hello Gregory"

 

"Oh I'm so glad to see you." And proving his point he stood up and pulled Mycroft close to kiss him. 

 

When they parted Mycroft was smiling just as much. 

 

"I brought you coffee in the hopes of persuading you to come home with me?"

 

Greg eyed the stack and the noticeable dent he made.  He turned back to Mycroft.

 

"Why not, give me a minute to switch everything off?"

 

"I'll wait two minutes if needed."

 

Greg replied with a kiss. 

 

Yes, he didn’t care what anyone says when Mycroft looks at him like that. 

 

Idiot, fool, horny teenager, all the same.

 

 

 


	311. Blue

 6. . Blue.

 

When Mycroft woke up that morning he nearly rolled out of the bed in surprise, Greg was sitting upright and looking at him.

 

"Gregory is everything all right?"

 

"Yes of course Love, good morning by the way."

 

"Good morning." He retorted before shifting to be more comfortable in bed.

 

Greg was looking intently at his face, to be more precise at his eyes.  Mycroft wasn't used to such scrutiny since he was the one scrutinising other people.

 

He was curious.

 

"Are you staring at me?"

 

"Yes. Your eyes mostly."

 

"May I ask why?"

 

"Hmm" Greg replied as he moved closer, shifting as to half leaning over the man, Mycroft didn't complain, Greg can lean over him, lie on top of him or straddle him any day, usually it implies all kinds of lovely things and his mind drifted.  Other parts of his body agreed to the thoughts and the smile on Greg's face clearly meant he knows the happy thoughts too.

 

Instead of commenting he just snuggled closer while staring in Mycroft's eyes. 

 

"Why are you staring in my eyes?" Mycroft whispered while his hand caressed Greg's cheek. 

 

"Because it's like a Rubik’s cube.  One minute it’s a shade between cobalt and indigo, and then with certain suits it's changes between cerulean and sapphire, there’s moments of stone and moments of arctic.  Moments of teal and moments of navy."

 

"Gregory." Mycroft whispered, his heart bursting with love for Greg.   Everyone always says his eyes are blue, but no one has ever taken the time to study them as well as Greg apparently did.

 

"You're eyes like you is a constant enigma to me and I want to spend my entire life to appreciate and embrace it."

 

"Not to understand or take it apart?"

 

"No, it's what makes you, you,  I want to enhance you for who you are,  not change you."

 

Mycroft was quiet but Greg knew what to look for when his eyes chance and switch between the colours as his emotions betray him.  It turned into a deep indigo that Greg loved.  

 

He leaned closer so their breaths mixed.

 

"My beautiful blue eyed man." Greg whispered before he closed the distance and kissed him. 

 

 

 


	312. Fallen

 7. Fallen

 

Greg was seated on the edge of the pond; he skipped the benches and sat down on a fallen tree.  Winter was nearly over and the sun was a bit brig8than normal as well as warmer and he could see the snow started to melt.  There was something incredibly serene about this; it just calmed him down like nothing else can.

 

Football and exercise calmed the temper, the mind; the rushing of thoughts, but this, this calmed his soul for some reason. 

 

He looked back at the house, everyone was sleeping except him, he had a nightmare, but not enough to wake Mycroft next to him.   Unable to sleep further he pulled on his coat and made his way outside.   His parents’ house was opposite a small pond and park, he loved it, and the view must be great all year round. 

 

They were on holiday and decided to visit Mycroft's parents on the way back. It was a lovely surprise for his parents, they were so happy.

 

"The second time this year, and it's not even March, Greg you are a marvel." Mummy said as they stopped.   He must have sat there for quite some time before he realised someone was walking towards him, he turned his head and smiled.

 

"Mummy."

 

"Good morning my dear.  What chased you out of bed so early?" He waved it off, not really wanting to talk about it.   She just walked over and sat on the bench next to him and his tree.

 

She held out a flask.

 

"Here I made some coffee."

 

"Oh thanks." Greg took the flask, immediately pouring some coffee and drinking it, to warm him up.

 

"Is everything all right dear?"

 

"I've always wondered you know, how it would feel to love someone so completely and utterly, but because you just want to sleep with them have an alternative agenda but just because they have taken the place of blood in your veins, of the air you breathe.   Someone who is so happy and thankful that you exist."

 

She gently leaned over and took his hand.

 

"And now you know."

 

He looked up at her, his eyes shining brightly. 

 

"I'm over fifty years old and I had to wait for all that time to know, but yes,  now I know."

 

"Tell me dear, wasn’t it worth it?"

 

"Yes. I'll gladly do it all over again if the result is Mycroft."

 

Mummy leaned forward and took Greg's hand.

 

"My dear, I don't have enough words or emotions to tell you how happy we are that Mycroft has you in his life."

 

Greg didn't answer, just squeezed her hand before standing up.

 

"We should get going; Mycroft would be awake by now, wondering where I am."

 

"Let's not keep him waiting; I should get started on breakfast."

 

"I'll help."

 

Mycroft watched from the window as his mom and partner made their way back to the house, smiling and happy.  He has fallen so hard for Greg and he knows he will keep falling for him every day that he breathes.

 

 

 


	313. Eclipse

    8. Eclipse

 

Greg was nearly bubbling over with excitement and anticipation.   Mycroft asked him to take two days off and to pack a suitcase.  He was taking Greg on a trip. 

 

Luckily the days off coincide with the weekend so that meant four days off no work and no cases. 

 

Heaven. 

 

The plane landed and Mycroft lead Greg to a small hotel, since it was evening,  Greg couldn’t see much of his surroundings to get a successful idea about where they were. 

 

"Come on Gregory." Mycroft placed his hand in the small of his back and gave him a slight push forward. 

 

"Oh come on My, give me a clue, please?" Mycroft looked at the soft brown eyes and had to work hard to keep his resolve.  His lips twitch in amusement.  Greg wants a clue and he shall give it.

 

"You are in the Northern Hemisphere, more west than east."

 

Greg rolled his eyes.

 

"That's your clue"

 

"That's what you wanted." Mycroft replied.   They were walking into the lift, Greg realised that they didn't even stopped at the reception to book in or get the key. 

 

Greg didn't let it lie there.

 

"When I said clue I was thinking more down the lines of island, currency, nationality or football team or something."

 

"Oh my mistake, you should've specified my dearest."

 

"Well now you know, care to answer them?"

 

Mycroft pretended to be deep in thought before he turned all nonchalant.

 

"No."

 

"No?"

 

"Hmm, you will just have to wait and find out." Greg sighed.

 

"Can I convince you with very slow seduction and sex?" Greg asked just as the door opened.  Mycroft shook his head. 

 

"You can try.”

 

"Oh I will."

 

Mycroft chuckled softly as they walked towards their room, and the door opened.  Anthea came out and handed them their key before she walked off to the room next door.

 

Once inside Mycroft closed the door and took off his jacket, Greg followed suit.

 

"Can I open the balcony door or curtains?" Greg asked after hanging

 

"Sure."

 

Giving Mycroft one more look he walked towards the curtains and opened it to a beautiful breath-taking view.  He was surrounded by cliffs and the ocean with a small town in the middle. 

 

Mycroft slowly walked closer watching his partner as he stared, when he took of his jacket he also kicked off his shoes and the sight was beautiful.  Greg against the backdrop of postcard scenery in his slacks, shirt hanging loose and barefoot. 

 

He walked until he was standing behind Greg, his arms wrapping around the detective. Greg lifted his hands and put it on Mycroft's hands in front of his chest.

 

"Like the view?" Mycroft mumbled in Greg’s ear. Greg shivered.

 

"It's breath-taking.  Where are we?" Greg whispered back, as not to disturb the atmosphere around them.

 

"We are in the Faroese Islands, tomorrow there will be a full solar eclipse and this island is one of the few where it will be a total eclipse.   I brought you here to see it, we are going on a small hike to that cliff over there on your right, and have a picnic and a first row view of a very rare occurrence."

 

Greg was speechless as he listened to Mycroft.  He flew them both in the middle of work and duty to a small island just to watch a solar eclipse.   Every day he loves this man more and more. 

 

Greg slowly turned around so he could face Mycroft; he placed his hands around his waist so they were close.

 

"I love you Mycroft Holmes, every day more and more."

 

Mycroft looked in Greg’s eyes and was entranced as the night sky reflected in his eyes, he could see forever.

 

"I love you too my dearest Gregory."

 

 

 


	314. The still house

 9. The still house

 

Greg looked around the room, his shoulders sagging with each step. The house just wasn't the same with Mycroft gone.

 

It should've been easier to handle, as he was used to being all alone in a place, yet it was very different. Instead of inviting the flat screen TV looked domineering, as if to say look at the lonely reflection of you on the sofa.   The sofa where you and Mycroft can comfortably stretched out, all that space for one little lonely detective. 

 

Greg pulled a face and sneered at the TV before switching the light off and making his way to the kitchen. 

 

Once in the kitchen he put the kettle on and opened the fridge, giving a loud sighs once more.  Even the fridge hates him, instead of the shelves full with food, vegetables,  milk, cool drinks and wine and meat, and all kinds of juicy stuff, it presented him in clear fluorescent light, a half loaf of bread,  some cheese and jam, a half carton of milk and little titbits of leftovers here and there. 

 

Making his tea he sat down at the table eating his mediocre dinner.  Glancing at his watch he realised it was time to send Mycroft a message.   The arrangement was that even though Mycroft can't respond, he will have a small window of opportunity to read messages.  Every night between seven and eight. 

 

Greg had used the time in the beginning to text multiple times, telling Mycroft everything, from good morning to what he's having for breakfast and lunch to good night.  It was close to a report.

 

A week later he had reduced the level of texts from about twenty to fifteen.

 

After two weeks it levelled down to ten.

 

Three weeks later it was five.   Five long ones where all the available characters were used.

 

It's been nearly two months and he was only sending one text a day, he nearly forgot last night. 

 

Finishing his sandwich and coffee he cleaned up and walked towards the bedroom.  The still house was haunting him, screaming at him, small noises in every corner and nook. The wind amplifying the sounds.   He hated it.

 

He had no idea where Mycroft was or how long his trip would be.   Originally three weeks. That was three weeks ago. 

 

Once in the bedroom he eyes got misty as it travelled over the furniture, the bed was way too big; the shower taunting him with memories of the two of them, even the pillows lost Mycroft’s scent.  

 

He made his mind up, forgetting about the text he quickly packed an overnight bag and made his way to his car.  The house was big and dark. 

 

He needed to text Mycroft, but there were so many things he wanted to say, yet he didn't. 

 

" _I'm a wreck without you, you know? Also the house won't stop screaming your absence.   Please come home.   I love you. GL"_

 

Swallowing the lump in his throat he started the car and drove to work.  He might as well do some paperwork and the sofa in his office isn't as loud as the house, which in its stillness is louder than a bomb. 

 

Once at work he read his message.  He typed again.

 

_"Good night Love, may you sleep well wherever you are.  Yours only.  GL."_

 


	315. Pleasure

10\. Pleasure.

 

Mycroft never knew what the fuss was all about a picnic until he was lying on a blanket, on the grass next to a pond with his head in Greg’s lap.  

 That's the moment where he changed his mind about lunch and picnics and the idea of 'quality time.' Now however, he gets it.

 Greg arranged with Anthea that instead of normal amount of time Mycroft takes for lunch, she gets him three hours off.  Mycroft was unaware of the plans until Greg showed up at his office.  

 Taking Mycroft's hand he led them out and instead of driving they walked towards the park

 Greg led him through a small hidden entrance and Mycroft was gobsmacked. 

 It was isolated, green with a big tree halfway hanging over the open field and into the water   he could hear people in the distance and even dogs barking.  

 However their spot was completely isolated and their own.

 Greg walked over to the tree and Mycroft could see for the first time a picnic basket and blanket.  Greg spread the blanket out under the tree and sat down.  He didn't even have to argue, he just gave Mycroft an irresistible smile and patted the ground next to him. 

 In the end Mycroft was lying stretched out, relaxing and having the most amazing lunch.  Greg made him most himself and would feed him, the best part was that he had no idea what he would eat next, Greg interchange it between savouries, sweet and fruit. If he wanted to complain about the sweets and cake, too bad, he already ate it.  And that was Greg's masterplan; the food was big enough for two bites, one for Mycroft, one for Greg. 

 When Greg walked Mycroft back to his office Mycroft pulled Greg close in an embrace. 

 "Thank you. Thank you for today."

 Greg hugged him back tightly.

 "It's my pleasure. Love you”

 

 

 

 

 


	316. Discordant

 11. Discordant

 

Mycroft stared in the mirror, his face a mixture of scepticism and reservation.  They, by meaning Greg and him were invited to a party.  His mother is throwing a party for their anniversary, but he was convinced it’s more of a family reunion to showcase her two sons and their partners.  

He voiced his concerns to Greg, who laughed and thought the whole ordeal ‘exciting’ and ‘can’t wait to meet the rest of the Holmes clan’.  Mycroft huffed; they are not some kind of tribe.

John shares Greg’s delight and unsurprisingly Sherlock was in standing with Mycroft.  Greg was even more to find the brothers have something in common. 

“Are you ready Love?”  Greg asked as his head popped in the doorway.  Mycroft turned around.

“I look ridiculous.  You on the other hand, look amazing and as if you are enjoying yourself.” Greg smiled broadly and stepped in the room, nibbling on a snack.

“Are you eating already?” Mycroft wanted to know.

“Yup.  Helping your mum with the table setting, and these jam tarts are amazing.”  Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“You find all food amazing.”

“It is, maybe not snails so much, I don't like the snotty gooeyness of it.”  Greg commented as he wiped his hands on the towel in the bathroom and walking over to his partner.

“When you put it like that.  Did you know my mum wanted to have snails until she found out you didn’t like it?”  Greg was surprised.

“Really? Well your mum is awesome.”

Greg helped Mycroft with his jacket and tie.

“Come on. Let’s go mingle.”

“I don’t want to.  Not to mention the colour scheme.”

“I like it.”

“It’s too discordant.”

“My, that’s the point.  It’s called colour blocking these days, and it looks great.  Come on.”

Mycroft just huffed but still grabbed Greg’s hand tight in his.

“Don’t leave my side Gregory.”

“Oh nothing will keep me from you Love.”

 

 

 


	317. Memory

 12. Memory

 

Greg walked down the hallway towards Mycroft office; he was scheduled to have his weekly chats about Sherlock.  Greg was looking forward to it, as the meetings have become a little more personal and intimate since his divorce and since John came into the picture as well.  The conversations have transformed from ideas on how to keep Sherlock clean and helping him, to what did the Baker Street two got up to now.

 

Greg smiled he never for once thought that there would be a time, when Sherlock would be happy and on the path to become great and have a friend (besides him and Mycroft) who supports him and accept him, warts and all as the saying goes.

 

Anthea came out of Mycroft’s office just as he was walking closer.

 

“Detective inspector.”

 

“Hi Anthea, how was your day?”  he greeted her a his normal custom, in the beginning she wouldn’t answer, but these days she would .

 

“Fine.  You can go in.”

 

"Thank you." Greg replied as he entered the room, Mycroft was standing against the small table with a variety of drinks.  He was pouring something to drink for the both of them.

 

“You do realise I'm on duty right?" Greg said as he sat down in his usual seat.  Greg stifled a groan; they were so comfortable and luxurious.   He can stay in one of these the whole day.

 

"I'm well aware Gregory, however I've taken the liberty of ordering lunch, since you just had a few digestive biscuits today, and the food will be more than enough to not only feed you, but provide the necessary energy to digest the alcohol."

 

Greg was impressed, he smiled widely before replying.

 

"Which means when I walk out, the alcohol will be out of my system?"

 

Mycroft nodded and handed him his glass.

 

"Give or take an hour."

 

"Splendid." Greg took a sip of his drink.  

 

"Ooh this is amazing." Mycroft, used by Greg's openness smiled.

 

"Thank you."

 

They chatted for a few minutes until lunch was brought in, Greg closed his eyes as the smell hit him. Mycroft stared at Greg; he was always surprised to find that Greg won't even try to hide the emotions on his face. 

 

It was refreshing and he wanted more.   By now he had most of Greg saved and placed in his memory, but there were gaps, he needed more. 

 

"Is that the only food you're going to eat?" Greg's voice cut through his thoughts.   He looked down at his chicken salad; Greg was having steak with chips.

 

"Yes. I normally have a salad."

 

"No. Not today, here make space on your plate." Mycroft stared at Greg as Greg cut his steak in half.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Sharing my food.  Half-half"

 

"I don't want your steak."

 

"Why not?" Greg asked before he pushed his plat away.

 

"What's in it?" He asked with narrowed eyes.  Mycroft rolled his eyes in response.

 

"Nothing."

 

"Nothing. Then why don't you want to share?"

 

"Because..."

 

"If you're going to say diet, I will force feed my steak to you."

 

Mycroft leaned back in his chair; no one has ever spoken to him like that.

 

"You need your food to help the alcohol consumption remember?" Mycroft replied while congratulating himself on the good save. Greg smiled.

 

"Oh how thoughtful, we are still sharing and that means I just have to stay longer.   Now which piece to you wants?"

 

Mycroft stared at Greg, and Greg stared back, undeterred.  After several minutes Mycroft knew he lost.

 

"The right side please and passed the salt please, I like my chips salty." The smile he received in return was getting a special place in his memory.  Oh and yes, Greg ended up staying much longer.

 

 

 

 

 


	318. Eloquence

 13. Eloquence

 

Greg was standing in the corner of the ballroom, his eyes on his partner.   Mycroft had to be at this function to do some work.   Greg laughed and joked saying Mr. Bond is finally mixing business with pleasure.   Mycroft scoffed and replied: you’re my only pleasure. Greg pulled him close and snogged the daylights out of him. 

 

Here they were, both donned on suits and matching ties.  Greg was looking fantastic but inside he was unsure of his appearance, compared to Mycroft he was far second.   Finishing his glass of champagne he placed it on the tray of the waiter next to him and picked up a refill.   Mycroft was talking to someone a few meters away from him, Greg didn't mind as he loved every moment possible to see Mycroft work. He had a style a certain grace that no matter what he did it was with an eloquence Greg found amazing.   And just a little bit jealous that he couldn't do it so well.

"Are you alone here?" A smooth voice asked at his right side. Greg turned to the man, who was quite young and hands, his attention focused on Greg.

"No. I'm a plus one actually." Greg replied.   The man laughed and held out his hand.

"Well it's good to meet you plus one, I’m Stanley."

Greg shook his hand and introduced himself.   That was the ice breaker and Greg had a new friend, which was until Mycroft showed up next to him all smiles and practically fusing himself to Greg's side like a barnacle.

Greg frowned until he realised with a shock that Mycroft was jealous.  Greg excused himself from the man and pulled Mycroft with him.  He led them out of earshot and eyesight into a small corner.

"Are you jealous?"

Mycroft tried to look affronted.

"No. Of course not." Greg leaned forward.

"I think you are, and it's so hot"

"You do?"

"Yes, because the whole night I was thinking how did I ever landed such an eloquent and amazing man at my side, and here you were jealous of that man, which you don't need to be."

"I wasn't jealous.  I wish you’d stop selling yourself so short and see how amazing and remarkable you are.  Besides I think it's time for us to go home."

"Absolutely.  You need to show me how amazing and remarkable I am and I need to show you how eloquent and awesome you are."

 

 

 


	319. Trust

14\. Trust

 

Mycroft watched the camera intently, the small chair uncomfortable.   Sherlock and John was next to him, Sherlock watching the screen John was either watching as well or reading the files in front of him.  Sally and Dimmock was also in the room, they were watching as well.  Greg's case was difficult so he brought Sherlock in, together they tried to do all they could and after another murder the case became political. A man in the government was killed, coincidently in the transport department. That in turn brought Mycroft on board.  

Instead of taking the case over, Mycroft had no choice but to play the part of a minor official in transport, as the victim is supposedly his boss.  Greg and Sherlock were enjoying how Mycroft had to play the part and pretended to be just a normal bloke.  

Mycroft didn't think it was funny. 

After a few days they caught a break, the downside was that Greg had to go in undercover.   The murderer is a woman, in her late thirties who had a thing for football players.  John commented and said she's been watching way too many reruns of footballers’ wives.  Sally laughed and agreed.  Mycroft and Sherlock had no idea what she meant.  

The role was simple, Greg was a major star in his days and played for many clubs, these days he turned manager to the upcoming stars  

Tonight he was at the hotel and even had a meeting with David Beckham.  He was dressed in the latest style and fashion.   Mycroft secretly arrange that he was dropped off in the latest Ferrari with Anthea on his side.  Anthea was his PA.  Mycroft watched as she played the part and hang on to Greg's side as if they were glued together.  She was obviously whispering tips and information about how to act and what to look out for. 

It was just after ten when the woman introduced herself and clearly made it known she want Greg – alone preferably.  Without his PA, he was the perfect gentleman and Anthea whispered that he needed to get her alone, in the hotel room they've prepared.   With that she made herself scarce, still close but giving Greg the space he needed. 

Mycroft wanted to break something instead he let his fingers clutched his umbrella.   Sherlock would roll his eyes and whisper profanities and sarcastic comments.   John was impressed by Greg's performance. 

Truth was, so was Mycroft.  Greg was very convincing and on top of that he hardly had to try and seduce her as his personality and looks clearly made an impression on the woman.  He knew he can trust Greg, but a small part was very jealous and concerned.  

"They're coming up let's move." Sally's voice spoke up and Mycroft could see she was right.   The woman was hanging on to him, kissing his neck and nibbling his ear.   Mycroft wanted to growl.  That's his spot. He is the one to nibble on Greg and kiss him.  Oh he was so not showing any mercy to the…. The…. The cheap cretin!

They lost sight of them when the lift doors close.  Mycroft moved with them to the living room, the set up was in the bedroom. 

He stood in the corner, not trusting himself to react when they enter.   Sherlock would give him looks which he ignored. 

Sally switched off the lights and they waited.   According to Mycroft it was a hundred years later when they heard the key card in the door and it slotted open.  

The women was laughing and clinging on to Greg as he struggled to get in.  As soon as the door closed they could hear her slamming him against the wall.

“Umph.” Greg groaned as his head hit the wall. 

"Oh don't worry I'll kiss it better." The woman said, showing no signs of sorry.  Mycroft really was getting fed up.

"Maybe we should switch on the light?" Greg tried again and they could hear from his hand searching for the switch, he just managed to push the lamp over.

"Ooh don't worry, ‘I know where everything is" sure enough they could hear her fumbling with his belt.

"Stop.  Please wait." Mycroft decided that was enough and he switched on the light.   It caught her off guard and as she tried to adjust she was facing Sally, Dimmock and the rest.  Mycroft's eyes were on Greg who was looking down.  Taking a breath he looked up at Dimmock. 

"Dimmock you're in charge."  With that he opened the door and walked out.  They were surprised but Dimmock quickly took charge and arrested her, Mycroft rushed out to follow Greg.  

 

He found him on the emergency staircase, trying to light up a cigarette but his hands were shaking too much.   Mycroft placed his hands on top of Greg's. 

"Gregory?"

Greg didn't reply or look at him, and Mycroft could see he was embarrassed or ashamed.

"Look at me, please."

"I didn't want you to see that, I'm sorry you saw that." Greg stuttered out as he looked at Mycroft.  Mycroft pulled Greg close and hugged him tight.  Greg was holding on just as tight.

"It's all over now.  It's okay.  Come on I'll take you home."

"I need a shower."

"Sure. Anything you need."

"Just you."

 

 

 


	320. Hearth

 15. Hearth

 

It was cold.  The snow was falling without considering the people and the streets.  This made it a real nightmare for Greg to go home.

He sighed for the umpteenth time in ten minutes.   A trip that usually takes him 30 minutes or so to get home was taking nearly double the time.   It's been 30 minutes already and he was just about halfway.  

Considering this, he still has another half an hour to go. 

He took his phone and dialled.

"Gregory?"  Mycroft's soothing and warm voice was heavenly in the coldness of the car.

"Hey Love. Just calling to say I'll be a bit late, I’m only halfway now."

"Oh dear.  It's been thirty minutes already."

"Yeah, I know; I’m sorry about this.”

"Don't be, I’m sure it's not your fault it's snowing. I'll keep dinner warm, and I've already started the fire, so you can relax when you get here."

"Oh that sounds great.  See you later. "

"Take care." Greg exhaled loudly followed by a deep breath.  He just got to have patience.

 

When he finally made it home it was forty minutes later and not thirty, he was tired and cold and not looking forward to the next day.  He'll need to go in a bit earlier to avoid traffic.  

He opened the door and took of his coat and shoes.   His toes were ice cold, but that's okay, since he wasn’t feeling it anyhow. 

"Love?" He called out and Mycroft replied from the living room.  Remembering the fire was lit he was already smiling and happy.   As he entered the room he smile got wider.  Mycroft pulled the sofa closer to the fireplace, there was steaming mugs of hot chocolate. 

Mycroft was sitting on the sofa with a blanket and book, which was now on the table and Mycroft looking at him.

"Welcome home."

"Oh it’s good to be home." Greg replied as he made his way over to the sofa nearly falling on it. Mycroft laughed softly. 

"Put your feet close to the hearth to warm up." Greg dis as Mycroft said and leaned back against Mycroft shoulder, each with their drinks.

"I love being home." Greg softly mumbled.  Mycroft nodded. .

"Me too."

 

 

 


	321. I haven't

16 I haven’t….

 

The car came to a sudden stop and Greg knew something was wrong when Anthea put her blackberry next to her and looked up in alarm.  Her eyes darted outside before she turned towards the driver.

“What’s going on?” Greg asked but Anthea ignored him, instead she pressed a button for the partition to the driver side to open.  It didn’t.

Greg leaned forward.

“Anthea, what is going on?”  She turned to him.

“We’ve been compromised.”

“The driver?”  She shook her head.

“Don’t think his ours.”  Greg took a breath and tried to open the door. It wouldn’t open. Anthea tried hers as well, but it won’t budge. 

“We’re locked in, that does not bode well for us.” Greg said as he looked around.  They were alone in a big open space, the warehouse in front of them and the river at their backs, no one can see them.

“We need to get out of here. Now.” Anthea said as she looked at Greg.  He nodded.

“Can you try to call Mycroft?” Anthea picked up her phone and put it down again.

“Signal is jammed.”  Greg pulled out his phone and saw his phone was having no signal bars either.

“Okay, besides breaking a window, I haven’t got a clue as to get us out, beside the windows are bulletproof right?” Anthea nodded.  There has to be a way out.

“Listen, I’m no Holmes, and I know you are used to situations like this, or received training, is there any way out?” She did open her mouth to deny the allegations, but realised it won’t help to lie. 

“Let me think a moment.”   Greg leaned back and looked around; he couldn’t see any way out.  Anthea was looking around trying to find something to get the door or window open.  Greg ran his hands through his head and leaned back.  His eyes fell on the roof window.

“Anthea, is the roof window also bulletproof?”  She looked up and smiled.

“No. Mycroft wanted it, but they were only going to do it, next week” Greg leaned up and opened the window.  He pulled his phone and tried to see if he could get signal.  It worked.

“Anthea. There’s a signal coming in, do what you need to.” Pushing passed him she shifted so that she could call Mycroft.  Greg listened as she talked, but his attention was diverted to the floor where smoke was coming in.  He leaned in closer to see what it was.  As the gas got close he started coughing.

“That Mycroft?” Greg asked as he moved to stand next to her, she nodded and he grabbed the phone.

“Mycroft. Listen, you better hurry, as there is a gas being released, I have no idea what type, but it will fill the car soon.”  Anthea bend down to see the gas and started coughing as well.

“Gregory, is there any way you can get out?” Mycroft’s frantic voice asked. 

“Not me, no, I might be able to help Anthea through the roof window, I shouldn’t have had the burger for lunch.” He tried jokingly. 

“You didn’t had lunch Gregory.” Mycroft stated.  Greg chuckled. 

“You were supposed to placate me Mycroft.”

“I’m on my way, just hold on.”

“Will do.” Greg put the phone off and grabbed Anthea’s arm.

“Come on, you’re getting out of here.” 

“Through the window?”

“Oh come on, I always knew you were a ninja.” Greg smiled and helped her.  She shook her head and with Greg’s help he helped her to climb out.  Once she was on the roof of the car she turned to him.

“Come on, your turn.” 

“I don’t think I’m going to fit Ninja.”

“I’m not a ninja.”

“Yeah yeah, you know, this feels like a half-hearted attempt, jamming the signal, locking the doors, yet leave the roof on.”

“We can worry about it later, come on.” 

“Anthea.”

“The gas is already half way, I don’t know what type it is, but I’m not taking the risk, to push in your stomach and get the hell out!”  Greg looked at her and saw that she was really scared.  He sighed and tried to climb out.  It was a tight fit, and the glass was taking another inch of space as well.  However they did managed and just when they were both out, the smoke was starting to bubble out.  They quickly climbed down and moved towards the oncoming cars.  Two vans and another Mercedes.  Mycroft climbed out and met them halfway, his face frantic with worry.  Making sure Anthea was fine he walked over to Greg, and throws his arms around him.

“You got out.”  He stated.  Greg hugged back, laughing.

“I did, good thing I didn’t had the hamburger.”

“It’s not funny Gregory; you could’ve been seriously hurt or worse.”  Greg pulled away, to look at the man in front of him, their relationship still relatively new.

“Hey. I didn’t, don’t focus on the bad okay, I know you’ll figure this out, but if it’s all the same, I think we should go now.”

“You’re right.” Mycroft looked at Anthea, both knowing somehow this is just the beginning, there is much word to do, but right now, Greg was right, it’s time to go home.

 

 

 


	322. Discretion

 17  discretion

 

Team building

 

Greg and his department were at a team building camp.  Everyone hated it.  The goal was unison and partnership. Every detective had to take their teams to bond.  Greg hated it; Dimmock hated it both under the same mind-set of. “Let sleeping dogs lie, the job gets done.” 

 

On the plus side, the country view was nice and the free time they had was either spent playing football or everyone disappeared into his own little corner and did what they wanted too. After seven they were also able to do what they want until the next morning.  Since it was summer Greg decided to skip the evening football game and go swimming. 

He even skipped the swimming pool to go swim in the little stream.  He used to do it a lot as a child and decided on doing it again. 

The place was empty and he found a nice little spot on that was isolated enough.  he put his phone and pillow down under the tree and kick off his shoes.  The shirt went next.  He stopped a small smile around his lips.  Looking around he kicked off his pants as well. 

He was going skinny dipping. 

 

It was fun until his phone rang, he quickly ran out to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Hello Gregory.”

“Hi Love.  How’s your day?”

“Long and tedious. Yours? “

“Did a bunch of kiddies team exercises, feel like a seven year old all over again, and now I’m skinny dipping.”  Greg waited patiently for Mycroft to reply. It was quiet.  Finally

“You’re what?”

“Skinny dipping.”

“Skinny dipping, as in…”

“Yup. Stark arse naked.”

“And the pool lights, isn’t it on?”  Mycroft tried.  Greg laughed.

“Not at the pool, in the stream.”

“In river water, do you have any idea what bacteria is in those waters?” 

“No. I didn’t test it.  Don’t worry, I’m having fun.  Wish you were here though.”

“Only to keep you out of the water.” Mycroft retorted.

“Yeah, so many other things we could do with me naked.”  Greg replied, trying to be all serious. 

“I can think of a few, but not sure I can mention it over the phone.”

“I’ll just use my own discretion the.”

“You are quite creative.”

“Oh yes I am.”

“I have to go; I can’t wait till you get back.”

“Me too.  Love you.”

“Love you. And please don’t get back into water.”

“Bye Love.”   Greg rang off and looked around with a smile.  Putting the phone down he quickly got dressed and walked back.

 


	323. Blanket

18\. Blanket

 

Sherlock found it hilarious used every opportunity to remind Mycroft that he won't forget this.  Mycroft would roll his eyes and pretend it doesn't bother him. 

 

John would try to convince Sherlock that this was indeed quite serious, yet the amusement was clear in his eyes.  

 

You see the British Government has chicken pox.

 

That's correct. 

 

The nothing -will-touch-me Mycroft Holmes has chicken pox.

 

His current offices were the one and only ward 1, room 7a in hospital.  With complimentary fluorescent lights, and several nurses on standby.  Two doctors, one hired, one appointed by his brother:  John Watson.

Also, he was in isolation and would get his three meals by a nurse.

Needless to say, Mycroft wasn't a happy camper. 

The rash was itching and although he was smart enough to know you shouldn't scratch his fingers had other ideas. 

"Stop scratching Mycroft!" Sherlock's voice carried through the air. 

"Honestly, and you pride yourself on being the smart one."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and stepped to the glass wall.

"I am the smart one."

Sherlock smirked.

"You know I don't know if it's the glass or the lights but your face does not look as intimidating as you think it does." Sherlock retorted.

"You do realise that this isn't permanent?"

"Oh yes.   So I should make the best of it." 

When Greg walked down the hall they were still staring at one another. 

"Hi." He greeted as he stepped closer.  

Mycroft was the first to break eye contact and turned to Greg, his eyes softening straight away.   Greg smiled at Mycroft.

"Hey, so John called me and say you have the chicken pox and under isolation?"

"Apparently it's a risk at my age and I'm not allowed to be home alone."

"That's good, here there's help nearby. I brought you some pyjamas." Mycroft sighed gratefully.

"Thank you.   This thing they called a covering is ridiculous." Greg and Sherlock both grinned at him. He was in his trousers and socks with the standard top of the hospital with the laces behind.   It was some sight to see the usual impeccable man in this outfit.  

Greg walked to the glass door and to Mycroft’s surprise he went inside. 

"Gregory? You can't be in here."

"Why not?" Greg asked as he put the bag on the bed.   Mycroft and Sherlock watched as he opened the bag and took out a pair of pyjama bottoms.

"I like this pair you always say it's the most comfortable." Mycroft walked closer but then stopped.

"Because I need to be in isolation and there's the risk of infecting you."

"Love…"

"Don't call my brother 'love' in front of me Lestrade it makes me nauseous." Sherlock stated as he stood and watch the two. Mycroft rolled his eyes and Greg gave Sherlock a hand sign -it wasn’t hello.

"Love." He emphasised. "I was vaccinated and had it as a child, and yes I know I might get it a second time, but you're worth it.  Also I brought this Calamine lotion, it is said to help with the shingles and itching.   Do you want me to rub it all over you or a nurse?" Mycroft looked as though he was contemplating the question before he surrendered. 

"You." Greg smiled broadly in return.  Sherlock groaned and sat down on a nearby chair.  Mycroft stepped closer so they were standing close 

"Thank you my dearest."

"You're welcome, no come on, the label says to apply as needed."

"You do realise you'll be in isolation with me right?" Mycroft asked as he took out the pyjama top as well and saw some of Greg's clothes.  He looked back at Greg who winked

"Yeah, we're going to have some amazing quality time together."

Sherlock sat up straight.

"You do realise there's only one bed?" Both turned to him.

"Yes." Mycroft retorted.  Greg grabbed Mycroft's hand.

"It's okay; we’ve shared a smaller space before, besides I brought an extra blanket."

 

 

 


	324. Joy springs

19 joy springs

Greg drove all the way down to Brighton.  He received an email form a victim of an attempted murder some years back inviting him to her new Bed and breakfast.  a complimentary weekend to say thank you for his help.  After a gruelling case he decided on taking her up on her offer and Friday instead of going home, he took the highway down to Brighton.

When he arrived he was surprised to find how close the place was to the ocean and the wonderful view he had.  It was beautiful. It was still quite light and here and there was still people swimming and relaxing on the beach.  Most have already packed up or were busy packing up to go home for the day.  The smell of fish and chips was in the air and the lights on the Brighton Pier were just starting to illuminate the sky. 

“Settled in nicely?” A woman’s voice came from the door.  Greg turned around smiling.

“Yes thank you Beryl.  When you said the place was lovely you forgot to mention quite wonderful.  It’s so close.” Beryl laughed and stepped in the room.

“It is isn’t it?  Don’t forget private and close to most facilities.  Breakfast and lunch is available with dinner being optional and pre booked.”

“That’s perfect for a man like me.” Greg agreed.

“Thought so.  Also I’ve taken the liberty to keep you a plate for tonight.”

Greg was pleasantly surprised.  That was quite thoughtful as he wasn’t really in the mood to go to the shops this time of day.  He wanted an early night and gets a good start tomorrow morning.  Already feeling the thrill of swimming and lying on the beach in the sun.

“Oh you’re a right marvel Beryl.”

“Oh nonsense.  I wanted you to enjoy this little weekend.  Unpack your stuff and then come to the dining room.”

“I’ll do that.  Oh Beryl, the name of your bed and breakfast…”

“Joy springs?  They say joy springs form a grateful heart, and you know I have a lot to be grateful for.”

Greg smiled.  Yes it was fitting indeed.

 


	325. Forgiveness

 20. Forgiveness

 

The pub was busy it was rush hour on a Friday night.

Greg could see the usual were here,  each in his own designated spot.  The group at the pool table in the back, trying to beat last week's score.

The same guy in the other corner,  reading the newspaper before checking the scores and numbers for various games and sports before making his weekly gambling choice.  

Greg was new here; or rather he's becoming a regular.   His visit is of such a nature now that he was able to distinguish between the newcomers and the regular crowd.  

He would sit at the small table in the one corner, the wall that separated the bathrooms and the pub.  You go around the wall and follow the hallway towards the end.   It wasn’t a particular favourite spot as it was quite dark and didn't offer enough space for a small group of people. 

He liked it because not only was he alone it also offered him the privacy he needed and wanted. On the table in front of him was an empty glass of whisky and his beer was a quarter full.  Neither was his first.  

In fact the beer was his third and the whisky his second.   The effects of the alcohol was making itself known in his blood stream

Greg leaned forward to get the waitress's attention.  He indicated that he wanted another round.  With a nod she walked off to the counter, getting him his refill.  

Greg sagged even more in his chair; the week has been long and dreadful.  He can't believe he was such an idiot to pick a fight with Mycroft.   It was unintentional, yet he was the closest.  He wanted to fight with Sherlock, but Sherlock just hang up the phone leaving Greg in mid rant.  Mycroft took the opportunity to arrive at his office giving his usual demands without a please or thank you.   In retrospect Greg was on a short fuse and he blew up at Mycroft.  Mycroft didn’t say anything back; he just let Greg get everything out of his system.  When he was done he just turned around and walked away.   Greg followed but Mycroft was gone and when he turned around his boss was standing there, and by the way he looked at Greg, he saw the whole thing.  He indicated that Greg must follow him to his office where the roles were reversed and Greg was the one getting an earful,  a warning and a week's suspension.  Even he has heard of Mycroft and didn't want to get on his bad side.  Greg stormed out of the office, grabbed his stuff and went home.   However he stopped at the bar where he himself has become a bit of a regular.   He looked up at the waitress who placed his drinks down. With a smile he thanked her and finished the whisky with one sip.  The beer he savoured a bit longer.  

An hour later he had more drinks he was sloshed.   He also knew he needed to call a taxi as there is no way he can drive.  Thankfully he didn't have to go into work.  With uneasy steps he walked outside.   Maybe he should just walk.  

First things first though.  Lifting his phone he dialled.  There was no answer.   He growled, still angry before he looked up at the CCTV cameras.   He stood in front of it and held out his phone.  His phone rang immediately.

"Detective Inspector?"

"Which one?"

"Excuse me?"

"Which gods are your parents that you both feel the need to step on every person in your path?  Is it Zeus, Poseidon or Hades? Because you all are so similar it's difficult to tell."

"You're drunk"

"Yes.  I'm a drunken idiot who can't do my job, and now I'm suspended and have a warning against my name because god forbids I say something to the great fucking Mycroft Holmes."

"Suspended? You didn't do anything wrong?"

"Except for daring to take you on, my boss is quite terrified of you and was told I need to beg you for forgiveness and hope to god you don't come down hard on us."

"Gregory..."

"Fuck that.  I'm not begging for your forgiveness." With that Greg hang up the phone and made his way home. 

 

 

 


	326. First snow

 21. First snow

 

It was a week before Christmas and the snow was quite late this year    weather reports did announced that it would happen it's the exact time that is being questioned.

 

Neither Greg nor Mycroft minded, it will snow when it will snow, the weather will have no impact on their plans or relationship.   They are together and that's all that counts. 

 

Two days later they both had their last day at work and bar any emergencies would be off until after Christmas.   Mycroft's parents are on their way over to spend Christmas with them. 

 

Greg was looking forward to a nice warm dinner,  a glass of wine and good company. 

 

After dinner they sat around the fire, each with their own thoughts and warm drinks.   The atmosphere was light and the smiles wide. 

 

It was just after ten when they made plans to go to bed when it happened.  The first snow for the season.   Mycroft noticed first when he double checked to make sure the house was secure and the heating sufficient in the rooms. 

 

"It's snowing." Mycroft announced as he stepped back into the living room.  Greg smiled was reaching new heights.

 

"Yeah? Let's go see."  With that Greg jumped up and walked towards the back door. 

 

"Gregory! The alarms are on." Mycroft said as he followed with his parents in tow.

 

"Then switched it off Love." Mycroft rolled his eyes but nevertheless disarmed the systems.  Right on time as well since the green light went on and the doors opened straight after.   Greg walked on to the grass his arms stretched out he turned in circles his face lit up and happy.  

 

"You got yourself an amazing man there Mikey." Mummy said as she took Mycroft's hand.  He turned to her.  He tried for exasperation but his eyes betrayed the love and softness.

 

"I did, didn’t I?"

 

Oblivious Greg called out.

 

"Come My!"

 

"It's okay Gregory, I’m happy here."

 

"Come on, I need to do something."

 

"Gregory there's not enough snow for a snowman, to make snow angels or have a snowball fight."  Mycroft said as he counts it off in his fingers. Greg laughed.

 

"Oh how you know me.  Its okay, we can do it tomorrow.  Just come here please."

 

"Gregory its cold and you’re full of snow."

 

Greg sighed and made his way back when he pretended to get hurt.

 

"Oww." He cried as he bends.  "Leg cramp"

 

Mycroft was worried and without second thought ran to him.

 

"It’s the transition from hot air inside to the cold I  just knew this was a mis...... ooofg." Mycroft didn't realise till it was too late that Greg lied until he was in his arms, being dipped and kissed.   Mycroft had no choice but to clutch Greg's shirt to keep from losing his balance.   Slowly Greg let go and moved till they were standing.  

 

"I've always wanted to do that." Greg whispered as he opened his eyes to stare into Mycroft’s.  Their breaths mixing between them.

 

"Kiss?" Mycroft asked with a smile.

 

"Arse.  No, kiss you under the first snow for the season.  Merry Christmas Love."

 

"Merry Christmas my dearest."

 


	327. Pray

 22. Pray

 

Greg watched the last person on the floor leave.   The overhead lights were still on, but Greg didn't care.   The lights in his office were off casting long and dreary shadows of his furniture inside.   He was sitting on the floor right between the sofa and file cabinet.  

 

Hiding.

 

Yes. He was hiding from the world. 

 

Every time he dares facing the world he has received nothing but pain, harsh words and insults and betrayal in return. 

 

He would just be in a happy place as he'd like to call it and then life gets alerted and boom it throws a stick in the water, breaking the calm and happy surface for a while.  

 

For example:

 

No wait.  He's a cop.

 

Exhibit A

 

Happily married to his high school sweetheart and yeah things are good until it's not.  Late nights, Sherlock nights...and days....affair result; divorce and he loses a most of the things he accumulated in years.  Material things but still. 

 

Exhibit B

 

Happy job and a good team, Sherlock arrives and few years later, a mastermind criminal and a suicide later he gets suspended and no choice for future promotions.

 

Mind you, and most major exhibitions there was smaller ones as well.

 

Exhibit C

 

Finally getting enough courage and self-esteem to move on,  and apparently he was handsome and smart enough to get the attention of the British Government,  to this day he has no idea what Mycroft sees or saw in him, but he's thankful enough.   Until once again it gets messed up.   He and Mycroft have a fight, a major let's-bring-up-sleeping-dogs and buried cows-in-ditch fight.  Mycroft practically throws Greg out of his house.   It was with great difficulty that he convinced the black suits to let him walked out without being held.

 

In all of this there's been one thing always there for him. Maybe two things.  1. His work.  2. Alcohol. 

 

Most nights that he is forced to go home he would drink himself into a stupor.  Tonight however he is staying at work to catch up on paperwork.  At least that's the intention.  He told himself it was a short smoke break but he ended up lying on the sofa, where he fell asleep and fell off as he turned.   The noise outside meant there was still people and they would undoubtedly come into his office if he makes more noise.  So he crawled into the space and waited.  Sure enough the last person turned out to be the cleaners.   He could see the shadow against the glass trying to open his office.  Finding it close they walked away.  

 

Greg stayed there his head resting on his knees.   It was all so messed up    moments later the lights went out outside and the floor was covered in darkness. 

 

Greg sighed and shifted so he could get back on the sofa.  Lying down again on his back his eyes stared at the dark while his heart was praying for a miracle and his head telling him to forget. 

 

 

 


	328. I believe

23\. I believe

 

Two months.

 

Greg has been single for the past two months.   He didn't plan it, and it was horrible.  Everywhere he looked he was reminded of Mycroft. 

 

A black car would drive down the street and he would stop for a second.  He would pass a camera and had to use all his willpower not to look up or smile. 

 

The case was out of Greg's jurisdiction and security clearance and Mycroft took the case from Greg in front of not only Mycroft's lackeys but also several police officers.   Normally Mycroft would give Greg a fair warning triangle but this time it came right out of the blue.  There was no warning, nothing.  One minute Greg was standing at a crime scene the next Mycroft showed up with two black vans and men in suits.  Mycroft walked over to Greg handing him the necessary papers saying he is off the case and must hand over his notebook, take his team and disappear. Greg tried to talk to Mycroft to at least get some idea of what's going on but nothing.  He put up a fight until Mycroft told him coolly to either walkaway or he will be escorted off the scene. 

 

That night when Greg went over Mycroft refused to discuss what happened or to apologise for treating Greg so badly.  Greg lost his temper and left the house, sleeping at his old cold flat.  

 

Instead of going to the Yard and explain to Greg the situation, Mycroft requested Greg at the Diogenes club.  That was when the relationship truly went sour.

 

Greg remembers the fight like it was yesterday.

 

"In my line of work I do not have to explain myself, nor be treated to such insolence in front of my men."

 

Mycroft said dead calm while staring at Greg.  

 

"I know Mycroft, but a little fair warning like before would be nice, and for the record I don't like being treated like that either."

 

"You're below me and my clearance you should've walked away."

 

“Below you?”  Greg voice was cracking when he stayed quiet and then his shoulders sagged.  With heavy feet he turned around.

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Guess so what?’” Mycroft asked his voice all of a sudden quiet and thin.

 

“That I’m below you.  In every aspect.  Work, financial, emotional, mental, every way.”

 

“Gregory… I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“And if I believe you, would that make it less true?”

 

Mycroft was too stunned to respond, his heart slowly breaking as he watch Greg turn around and walked away.

 

 

 


	329. Wistful

 24. Wistful

 

Mycroft came home to a quiet and peaceful home, after a rough day and dealing with politician the atmosphere at home is exactly what he needed.  There was a wonderful aroma of something baking in the oven, the smell of cheese and garlic calming him even further. 

As he placed his coat and umbrella at the door he could hear soft singing.  Instinctively he smiled: Gregory.  Of all the things he loves about Gregory there are two things that stand out:

One:  the way Greg’s hands will always move as he talks, Greg can never seem to just be. Something is always moving, his hands as he talk, his legs would shake silently as he sits.  Mycroft wasn’t used to it, yet he could stare for hours. 

Two, Greg would always whistle, or hum or softly sing a song.  Mostly rock and then the pen in his hand would become a drumstick or something.

These days, when he was working at night or when they are in bed, it would be a soft, romantic melody.

Mycroft toed off his shoes and his jacket, walking towards the study to listen to his voice.

_“L is for the way you look at me_

 

_O is for the only one I see_

 

_V is very very extra ordinary_

 

_E is even more than anyone I adore.”_

Nat King .Cole. Mycroft smiled even wider.  His Gregory is in a wistful mood.  Nat King Cole and frank Sinatra and those legends are for when he is in of those moods, meaning the dinner is home cooked, and it is going to be serve with candles and chilled wine.  He can’t wait. 

He walked towards the study and entered.  Greg hardly ever closes a door.  Greg’s eyes found Mycroft’s and Mycroft heart clenched at the love and sincerity in them. 

Instead of greeting him, Greg got up and continued singing

_“And love is all that I can give to you.”_

“It’s all I need Gregory.” Mycroft said.  Greg smiled and went on.

_“Love is more than just a game for two.”_

“I’ll never play with us, my dearest.”   Greg stopped in front of Mycroft, taking his hand.

“ _Two in love can make it.”_

“I can do anything with you by my side.”

_“Take my heart and please don’t break it.”_

“I’ll cherish it with everything in me.” Greg let go of Mycroft’s hands and pulled him closer, one hand on his hip, the other behind his neck.  Their mouths were inches apart.  Mycroft didn’t break eye contact.

“ _Love was made for me and you.”_

“Only because of you.” Mycroft whispered as Greg closed the space and kissed him.  Mycroft embrace him tightly his heart bursting with gratitude to have this amazing man in his life.

 

 

 


	330. Ochre

25 Ochre

 

Greg eyed the woman on the screen with his face contorted in a mixture of revulsion and disdain.   The woman unaware of the emotions she's giving Greg continued with her little monologue on cooking. 

"Just pop in the oven while hubby pours the wine."

"How about I pop you down a social class?"

Greg mumbled as he took another sip of his beer. 

"What did the poor woman do?" Mycroft asked as he looked up from his laptop.  Greg shifted in his seat and stretched out to the back to look at Mycroft.  

"That woman on TV.  I don’t like her."

Mycroft smiled at his partner before he watched the woman on the screen. 

"You know Fanny Craddock ruled the TV and chef world for close to twenty years.  My mother use to watch it every time it was on.  She was ground breaking and most of today’s cooking shows are thanks to her."

"Really?  Your mom watched her?"  Greg smiled as he shifted so that his back was to the screen and his front facing Mycroft.

Mycroft watched his boyfriend with a smile, closing the laptop he walked towards the sofa, Greg watch him as he moved around the sofa to sit next to Greg.

"She did, you see she was a mathematician who gave it up to look after her family, she could cook but she was no MasterChef and that woman helped her a lot."

"That's a good story, thank you for sharing it with me, if I may ask she didn't wear the whole beehive did she?"

Mycroft chuckled softly a sound Greg loves.

"No, she didn't, but she did had a fondness for the fashion style."

"Oh wow, just tell me she didn’t wear some of that ugly mustard yellow colours."

"I'll have you know it was called ochre."

"Oh my apologies, did she wear the ochre?"

"No.  But we did have a curtain set in the colour, Sherlock would stare at it and cry his eyes out." Greg burst out laughing and Mycroft laughed with him. 

"Tell me more please?" Greg said between breaths.  Mycroft laid back and put his feet on top of Greg's lap.

"Well I do remember this one time. ......"

 

 

 


	331. Plenty

 26. Plenty

 

It was their six month anniversary and the only thing they agreed upon was a quiet and peaceful dinner alone and private.   No restaurants, not big things just them.

 

Greg took a deep breath as he knocked on the door.  Mycroft opened immediately as if he was waiting for Greg, he probably was.

 

"Hello Gregory."

 

"Hello Mycroft." They shared a brief smile before Greg went in and Mycroft close the door behind him. 

 

Greg walked into the dining room and stopped.  There was candles everywhere but there was a bowl with fried chips and plates with sliced tomatoes, jalapeños, onions cheese,  sauces, buns and patties.  All the ingredients for homemade hamburgers. 

 

He turned to Mycroft his face confused. Mycroft smiled and shrugged.

 

"I know we said no posh and big dinners and you said last week you craved a hamburger so I thought it would be perfect." Greg was smiling like an idiot before he grabbed Mycroft and kissed him half senseless.  When Greg let Mycroft go he looked positively dishevelled. .

 

"Let's have dinner shall we?"

 

"We shall." They moved to sit at the table before Greg eyed the food and turned to Mycroft.

 

"Love, I didn't see any salads and stuff you eating hamburgers with me?"

 

"Yes.  You keep saying I don't need to be on a diet and I thought it is our anniversary."

 

"I love you.   I know I've said it before but I mean it.  That's an amazing anniversary present right there."  Mycroft blushed and took Greg's hand.

 

"Gregory, I know we said no presents but since you’ve been in my life, I finally learned what it is to truly live and I was hoping that you'd be interested in living with me?" Greg stared speechless at Mycroft before he stood up and moved so that he was sitting in Mycroft’s lap.  Kissing him fiercely.

 

"Does that mean a yes?" Mycroft asked between the kisses.   Greg smiled and gave his earlobe a bite.

 

"Yes. I'd like nothing more."

 

"Good that's go...." Greg didn't allow Mycroft to finish that sentence before he kissed Mycroft again. 

 

"Gre....ry... di...ner...."

 

"Oh there's plenty of time for that..."

 

 

 


	332. Gather

 27. Gather

 

Mycroft made sure everything was fine, the snacks were arranged in nice trays on the small coffee table the coffee is freshly ground and if Greg wants some cool drinks there are that as well.  The call came unexpected; Greg was having a bad week and decided to take Mycroft up on his offer to spend a day away from the world. 

 

Mycroft made the offer out the blue some time back.   Greg came over to the office for a weekly update on Sherlock and was caught off-guard by several hard cases, a screaming ex-wife and a demanding boss.  He ranted at Mycroft and in the heat of the moment Mycroft said if he wants to escape it all he can gladly sit in his office for a day and read all the books he showed an interest in.

 

Today was the day Greg is taking him up on that offer.  He called yesterday and Mycroft could hear he was close to either braking or committing some crime.

 

The knock on the door shook Mycroft out of his mind and he went to open it up.  Mycroft tried his best not to stare, Greg was dressed down in his jeans, a metal band t-shirt and his leather jacket.  The best part was that he was wearing All-stars Converse. He didn't think Greg had those shoes. 

 

"Hey, are you sure about this?" Greg's voice was soft and Mycroft knew he hasn’t been talking much since yesterday.

 

"Good afternoon Gregory and yes I'm sure about this. Come on in." Greg smiled briefly and step inside his smile became broader as he saw all the effort Mycroft did in making it as comfortable as possible. 

 

"You didn't need to do all this."

 

"Nonsense."  Mycroft went over to his desk to grab his laptop.

 

"You're not staying?" Greg asked and Mycroft heard the slight disappointment.

 

"You wanted some space and I'm just giving you that"

 

"But this is your office, how can I be comfortable in here knowing I forced you out?"

 

"You didn't force me, I'm happy to oblige to your wishes."

 

"Do you have a lot of work?"

 

"I can keep myself busy." Mycroft tentatively answered, not sure what Greg means.

 

"Then my wish is for you to stay.  Please."

 

"Are you sure?" Mycroft immediately was excited with the idea that he can spend time with Greg, especially looking like that 

 

"Yes, I need your advice on the books here,  you said I can read them, but let's face it I'm no Holmes and I won't finish all of these in one day, you'll need to tell me which are the best to start with,  and with all these snacks,  I want a buddy to enjoy it with me."

 

"You do know you can borrow some?"

 

"Are you looking for excuses to leave?"

 

"No!" Mycroft nearly yelled and it was definitely louder than normal and the smile Greg graced him in return was breath-taking.  Mycroft finally gave up and removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Greg looked surprised but didn't say anything as Mycroft walked over the bookcase.  

 

"I may be a Holmes but I can't finish all of these in one afternoon, I’ve gathered so much over the years and some I haven't even read."

 

"Aaah. Keep putting it on the one-day-when-I-have-time list?" Greg asked as he stood next to Mycroft.

 

"Something like that.  You know what; I think I'll join you in this venture today."

 

"Awesome, and when we're done with all the books, we’ll go to a market and gather some more."

 

Mycroft turned to Greg, smiling.

 

"We will, will we?"

 

"Oh yes, with coffee, tea and snacks this will become a regular occurrence."

 

"Is that so?" Mycroft was openly smiling at Greg who smiled back before he took out glasses from his shirt pocket putting it on and clapping his hands together.

 

"Oh yes, so come on, give me a book."

 

 

 


	333. Hush

28\. Hush

 

It was a warm summer's night, Mycroft and Greg was fast asleep,  tight together in each other’s arms. 

 

They had a wonderful dinner followed by a romantic evening of kisses and making love followed by a quick shower to clean up.  

 

They fell asleep to the soft declarations of I-love-you and sleep-tight, a smile on their faces and the phones on charge on top of the bedside tables next to them  

 

The digital clock just turned from 00:59 to 01:00 when Greg's phone rang.  Years of experience trained Greg so by the second ring the phone was next to his ear and he was halfway out of bed.

 

"Lestrade?"  Mycroft woke as well, but didn't move, not yet, he could feel the dip of the bed as Greg got out, and even though it was summer the bed instantly felt cold. 

 

"I'm on my way." Greg’s voice was soft and to the point, obviously under the impression that Mycroft was still asleep.  Mycroft wanted to let him know he was awake, and yet he didn’t.  If Greg knew he was awake he would feel guilty about waking him up,  and if he didn’t Mycroft would feel bad about not saying goodbye or good luck about whatever it was he needed to go do. Offer him comfort if was going to be bad, help if it's going to require some political involvement,  or just a hug and kiss saying everything was going to be all right. Mycroft laid there until he heard Greg walking down the stairs, he threw the covers away and he didn't even bother with slippers or his gown, just in his pyjamas he ran down after Greg.  

 

He found Greg at the foyer and Mycroft paled.   He was putting on a vest of some sort.   Gregory never does that with a normal call out.

 

"What's that?" He blurted before he could stop himself, Greg nearly jumped as he turned around. 

 

"Hi Love, what you’re doing up?"

 

"I turned and you weren't there." He quickly lied but Greg knew it was a lie.

 

"I'm sorry I woke you."

 

Mycroft didn't reply as he walked till he was standing in front of Greg, his hand on the vest.

 

"What's this for?" Mycroft knew but his mind didn't want to acknowledge it.

 

"It's a stab vest.  Could you help me tighten it here?" Greg asked as he lifted his arm.   Mycroft quickly taped the Velcro together and checked the other side as well.

 

"You don’t usually wear one of these on a call out."

 

"I know, this particular situation calls for it, they’re quite uncomfortable."

 

"It's designed to save your life, and why must you go, why can't the others."

 

"Because I'm the highest in command with this case, and I need to lead it."

 

"So you're in the front line?" Mycroft was getting more and more upset and Greg saw it.  Without thinking he leaned over and kissed him. 

 

"Hush now, my Love, it’s just procedure."

 

"I don't like this.”  Mycroft whispered as he held Greg close.

 

"I know, neither do I, I'll be careful, promise."

 

"I know." Greg stepped back and cupped Mycroft's cheek.

 

"Go back to sleep, I’ll call you as soon as I can."

 

"I love you Gregory."

 

"And I love you." Greg kissed him one more time before he opened the door and left, leaving Mycroft standing alone in the small lamp light.  Mycroft sighed and walked back to the bedroom.  The bed was big but uninviting Mycroft walked over to his phone and dialled. 

 

"Anthea?  Apologies for waking you, I need a car and surveillance on Greg and his team, meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes." There's no way he'll be able to sleep now, not when his partner left with a stab vest.   He might as well go keep an eye out.

 

 

 


	334. Anointed

29\. Anointed

 

Greg closed his eyes hoping that when he opens it again,  the scene in front of him will gone, that all of this was just a scene out of some Hammer house of horror movie. Deep breath and open.

 

No.

 

Still the same.

 

He looked up at his watch, he sent the text to Sherlock about ten minutes ago, he should be here in another ten maybe fifteen minutes. It doesn’t really matter as it wouldn't be long enough for him to get his composure right.  

 

Anderson walked over to him.

 

"It's confirmed, it's another one." Greg sighed at the news.

 

"You sure?"

 

"Same oil that was used the bottle in the victim's hand."

 

"Empty right?" Greg double checked with him, Anderson just nodded.

 

"Great   another 'special anointed' victim, how do I explain this one?" Greg asked to no one, the men around him who did hear just shrugged.  No answer forthcoming.  How do you explain that there's a man out there who kidnap between the ages of 50 and 60, tortures them then drowns them in oil, literally as they are soaked through, the lungs filled with oil as he submerge them and then arrange them in position of defence, first one was a crawling position like the one’s they train soldiers   the second one as cop aiming, and this one as a cop or man holding out a badge.   All civil servants positions all especially anointed for their jobs.

 

What Greg tried to ignore that all the victims so far had a lot of common with him, age, body build, hair and divorced.  If he is planning on ignoring after the third one, he has about five minutes left; Sherlock will not be that kind.  Oh well he is a big boy, he can handle this. 

 

“Lestrade!” He turned and could feel his shoulders sagging. ‘Damn traffic, there goes his five minutes.’

 

 

 


	335. Flame

30\. Flame

 

 

 

Little by little they started to notice, the change wasn’t immediate, it was like a seed planted in coarse dry land with drought cracks spidering along the ground, only Anthea knew where the water that fed the ground was coming from, because the only thing Sherlock noticed was that somehow, the cracks disappeared and a plant was starting to bloom, thinking back there was evidence of the bud underground, but he couldn’t be sure until the first green stem broke through the ground and small leaves started appearing.  By the time his parents noticed the small plant was standing steady in the ground already started to branch out into little arm reaching to several other corners of Mycroft’s life. 

 

Everyone could see it, yet Mycroft and his immediate family figured it out, the water that allowed the seed to grow was thanks to Greg.  It was the flame of his love that melted the ice in Mycroft, feeding and nourishing what was always there, just waiting to bloom

 

 

 


	336. Coming

1\. Coming

 

Sherlock had enough experiences and practice on being invincible when needed. Two years as a matter of fact, most soldiers that get drafted for their first tour only get one year. He tilted his head and thought for a moment that when he sees John again he should tell him that he was practically a soldier now and if two years count which rank would that make him.  Yeah, he’s filing that in his mind palace, this idea needs some investigation. 

 

Right now,  he is here for Lestrade,  Greg,  but he will pretend he forgot the name and call him Graham,  he looks like a Grant anyway, he has seen a glimpse of that old black and white movies.

 

He is here to surprise him, after two years absence.  

 

He quickly stepped into the shadows and moved closer to the door.   He could hear the man coming out, he wasn’t even bothering to hide the heaviness in his step.  Triple shift.

 

'Eug, the man needs a life.'

 

He walked closer as Greg came out and stopped, his hands searching his pockets for his cigarettes.

 

'Ooh I'd like one of that. Shit!' He silently cursed as he accidentally kicked a pipe, and hid just in time before Greg looked around.

 

He walked over to Greg,  still hiding in the shadows and allowed himself a few minutes to give Greg the once over,  the two years took a toll on him, his hair was shorter  and greyer,  there were more lines on his face. He missed the man, he really did and seeing him there was something else.   'Well that's enough sentiment, time to announce himself.' He just hoped that Greg would spare his nose when punching him, John already did a number and it would be tragic if his nose is permanently changed. 

 

"Those things will kill you." 

 

The punch never came.

 

"Oh, you bastard."

 

Still no punch.... oh wait here we go. .....wait?  What?  Hugging? 

 

'Oooh....two years and the first nonviolent touch?  I missed that.'

 

 

 


	337. Bury deep

2\. Bury deep

 

Mycroft wanted to throw his phone against the wall, if only he could, there was too many information on it.  Plus he can't be incommunicado for too long.  Still the crash and splintering of the phone would be a sight to behold. 

 

Greg was stuck in an underground car, a homicidal maniac took a little girl hostage after a robbery and Greg chased him into the railyard and now the girl is free but Greg is in her place and the man has a grenade. 

 

The sad part was that they were on the brink of acknowledging their feelings and take the next step. 

 

Mycroft looked down at his phone again, reading the text one more time.

 

"I'm sorry I buried  my feelings for you so deeply,  if I hadn't we may have had some good times,  on the other hand if I buried it deeper maybe I could have saved you some pain.  Either way.  Love you. GL"

 

Putting the phone down he refocused on the proceedings in front of him. Mycroft could see from where he was standing that Greg sent the message secretly and the man was standing in front of the car screaming at the row of cops and necessary personnel.   The grenade was in his arms and he could see the pin was halfway out. He on the other hand was watched him through the telescope on his rifle.   He is waiting for the perfect shot.  He may be a lot of things but he will get his hands dirty when it comes to his brother and unfortunately, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.  He had the training, he had the paperwork and he wasn't afraid to fight for what he wanted.  Right now that's Greg safe, that's Greg alive, that’s Greg available to date and kiss and......

 

'Little left, come on..... There you go, bye-bye...’

 

Greg dove into the corner when the shot rang out, and the man fell dead on the ground. 

 

‘No one touches his Gregory.’

 

 

 


	338. Snow flake lashes

** 3\. Snow flake lashes. **

Greg decided on walking home, he has had rough days before but today was just twenty sides of wrong. 

A whole family killed in one night, on Christmas Eve nonetheless. It was such a waste.  In all truth, it was moments and situations like this where he was glad that he had no one at home waiting for him. 

Well that is not entirely true.

He and Mycroft have been spending time together or dating as the correct technical term would be.  For a fleeting moment he considered whether he should call him but decided against it. 

Mycroft's parents are visiting for the holidays and would certainly not appreciate their eldest son's partner/lover calling him. 

Maybe he should text him, no; they already get to spend so little time with their sons that Greg wasn’t going to steal their valuable time.  Pocketing his phone he continued walking down the snow covered streets to his lonely and empty flat. 

By the time he got home he was covered in snow on top of his shoulders and his hair was white with compressed snowflakes.  He will need to have a shower immediately as he get home before the snow melts and the cold water run down his back, a sure way to catch a cold. 

He had to remove one of the gloves to be able to open his front door, hurrying in and closing the door behind him before more snow and coldness could get in.

"What were you thinking walking in this weather?" The voice sliced through the air.   Greg's eyes widen in surprise as he turned around to see Mycroft standing there looking shocked at the state he was in.  Anthea send him the report of the case and photos that he was walking home and instantly made his way over.   Looking at Greg now he knew it was the right decision.  Greg looked like he was ready to fall over.   He stepped closer cupping Greg's cold and red cheeks in his warm hands, he visible relaxed. The case and emotions taking its toll as his snowflake lashes begins to melt from the hot tears running down his face.  "A whole family My." He broke out as Mycroft pulled him tight against him.  He would held him for two minutes,  lead him to the shower,  while he would make tea and then tuck him in bed, holding him until tomorrow where he will take him to his place to have Christmas with his family.   Unbeknownst to the plans, Greg just buried his head in Mycroft’s warm embrace.

 


	339. Resonate

4\. Resonate

 

There comes a point where you just let go, your brain decides on a temporary strike and takes a holiday. 

 

This is such a moment in Greg’s life.  He just arrived home to find his first partner since the divorce in bed with another man.  Instead of walking away or getting angry he just folded his arms to watch. 

 

Three months, they’ve been dating for three months and although they weren't official and thinking long-term he was quite saddened by the prospect of another relationship down the drain.  The evidence was more and more pointing him in the direction that once again the only thing he can count on was his job. 

 

The sound of his giving up was louder than the sound from the bed, either way both would resonate against the walls in the empty flat for a while.  

 

He sighed and decided on getting wasted, first thing first though was that he didn't want his now obviously ex and playmate here when he gets back, so he needs to announced his presence. 

 

"Sorry for the interruption." The couple jump up and turned to Greg. 

 

"Think of this as an intermission, a quick announcement.  When I get back to my flat, mind you, I want both of you gone and everything that either of you brought into the place.  Okay?  Good." Without looking back he made his way to the nearest pub.

 

It took him less than twenty minutes to get halfway drunk.  That was also enough time for Mycroft to slide on the barstool next to him.

 

"Detective Inspector."

 

"Offduty." He mumbled out as he downed another shot glass. He lifted his arm to get the bartender's attention.

 

"Heard what happened." Mycroft stated as if they were talking about the weather.

 

"Hmmm. Caring really isn’t an advantage hey?" Greg responded with a deep sigh.

 

"Depends on who you care for, at least that's what I learned from you."

 

Greg looked at Mycroft. 

 

"I knew, we weren't in, for the long haul yeah, but would it really kill him to stay faithful for the while we were going out?"

 

"Personally I think he was a right idiot for cheating on you in your own home."

 

"You think so?" Greg looked so heartbroken that Mycroft had no other option but to be honest.

 

"Yes.  If I had a man like you, I’ll use all my available resources to keep you safe and happy."

 

"You have a lot of resources."

 

"Yes I do."

 

Greg thought for a moment before he looked down.

 

"I don't want to get wasted anymore, not worth the hangover."

 

"May I suggest dinner?"

 

"Not dressed for it."

 

"At my place, I’ll cook dinner while you drink coffee to sober up and then you can sleep in my spare bedroom, if you don't want to go home." Greg thought for a moment, a good meal and company sounds much better than drunkenness.

 

"Okay.  Sounds good.  Told them I want them both gone before I get home. Tomorrow is long enough right?"

 

"Yes." Mycroft made a mental note to make sure they are both gone out of Greg's flat and that the bedsheets be replaced.

 

"Thanks My"

 

"My? I'll just blame it on the alcohol."

 

"Nope.  Always wanted to call you that."

 

"Gregory."

 

"You're My to me, at least in my mind."

 

Mycroft had no response to that, so he just stayed quiet and lead Greg to his car.

 

"What are in the mood for, dinner wise?"

 

"Anything you like to make, but melted cheese would be awesome."

 

"I'm not making you a pizza."

 

"Ooh that's sounds great!"

 

 

 


	340. Melt

5\. Melt

 

Greg banged his head against the metal wall.  The radio in his hand crackled.

 

"Did you get that detective?"   Greg sighed. He brought the radio to his mouth.

 

"Received. Thank you." 

 

Putting the radio down looked around before he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.   Putting his jacket on the floor he sat down.  It's not much, but at least it's something. 

 

He felt like banging his head against the wall again but refrained,  he need all the cells he got to keep a clear head.   Lifting the radio he pressed the button.

 

"Donovan?"

 

"Detective this is James, please hold one moment, Donovan is trying to get the rescue team to hurry up.  I'll go get her."

 

"Thank you James, wait maybe you can help, can you tell her to call Mycroft and explain the situation?  Maybe give him the radio frequency; I really would like to talk to him before you know....." Greg’s voice faltered, but they both know the situation, before he ran out of air.  That's what happens when you get locked in a faulty bank safe. No oxygen, but at least you get radio contact.

 

"I'll pass the message Detective."

 

"Thanks." 

 

Five minutes later the radio crackled again.

 

"Greg?" Greg lifted the radio.

 

"Donovan?"

 

"I called him, he said he'll be here in ten minutes."  Greg closed his eyes in relief. 

 

"Thanks Sal."

 

Ten minutes later Greg has been trapped for close to an hour and he could feel the air becoming thinner than normal.   His armpits were stained with sweat and instead of sitting down he reclined so he was lying on the floor.  His jacket scrunched up makeshift pillow. 

 

"Gregory?" Even over the radio Greg could hear the tension in Mycroft’s voice.

 

"My.  Glad to hear your voice."

 

"This isn't exactly the best circumstances Gregory."

 

"I know and I'm sorry for most likely interrupting your day, I trust that you been informed of the situation?"

 

"You and your team are investigating a murder in the bank vault and no one realised that the transponder of the vault door was tampered with and now you're stuck inside while they are struggling to override the codes to get you out."

 

"That sums it up nicely." Greg replied softly as to preserve as much oxygen as he can.

 

"Did they tell you there were no ventilation and therefore no oxygen?"

 

Mycroft took longer to answer. 

 

"They did.  I arrange for some of my people to help with the systems, they will be faster in getting you out."

 

"That's good. I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice if.... well in the instance of me not getting out."

 

"You will.  Just hang on."

 

"I am My, but I can already feel the effects of a lack of oxygen in here.   Tell me the systems My."

 

"Systems? Don't you mean symptoms?" Mycroft voice was confused but laced with worry, cognitive functions and motor functions are first to suffer, heart rate increasing will follow as his body is trying to pump more oxygen to his body. Dizziness and fainting will occur and then lastly a coma followed by braindead and then death.

 

"You're going to be fine."

 

"I'm tired. Wish I was with you now."

 

"We will be. Stay calm."

 

"I am, so calm I'm so calm it feels like I'm lying on the beach instead of a cold concrete floor." Greg was feeling dizzy and nauseous. 

 

"My?"

 

"Gregory."

 

"Tell me something that you haven't told anyone."

 

"Like what, a childhood dream?"

 

"About me, tell me something you noticed after the first time we met?"

 

"Gregory, I hardly think this is the time."

 

"I'm dizzy, and nauseous and tired, I’m sweating yet it's not hot. Please My."

 

Mycroft looked around, his people was concentrating hard to find a way to override the systems, another team was busy with blowtorches trying to get a opening in the roof, the weak part of the safe to get inside, Greg was in a bad way and suffering all the symptoms of a severe lack of oxygen.   By his mental calculations Greg will be unconscious in the next twenty minutes or so and he wasn't ready to deal with that or accept it.

 

He brought the radio close.

 

"I only realised after we met, years later that that was the moment."

 

"Moment?" Mycroft could hardly hear Greg.

 

"The moment you smiled was the moment I started to melt." He clutches the radio tightly in his hand.

 

"Please hang on; I'm not done melting yet." Mycroft didn't care that everyone could hear him, all he cared for was inside a locked room, so far two codes have been override, two more to go.

 

Greg's voice was softer than before.

 

"Love you too."  Mycroft couldn’t reach him again and the radio just crackled as he tried to contact him.  He continued to try until there was a soft swishing noise and the vault door started to open.

 

 

 


	341. Portend

 6. Portend

 

Greg knew without even bothering to listen to the rumours or reading the files that this incident was portending to something bigger. 

 

Crimes increasing and now a series of bombings, it doesn't take a genius to figure out something big is coming, something is brewing in the not so far distance and he for one knows without a doubt that he is not ready. 

 

Then again, if he knows will he doubt he will be able to successfully prepare for it.

 

Closing the current case he looked up from his desk to the ongoing around him. Sally was talking to Anderson at the water cooler.   Turns out the scuttlebutt at a water cooler is a true phenomenon. 

 

His superintendent is on the phone and pacing around in his office.  

 

'Oh great.' Greg thought he does not look happy, which means the department is going to get either a reprimanding or more paperwork for non-serious administration duties. 

 

Taxpayer's money hard at work. 

 

He wonders exactly how long he should wait before asking John for pint out, after all the man was covered in a bomb.  Officially he knows nothing; unofficially he knows his friend needs a supporting shoulder. 

 

Well, if you don't dare, you won't know.  Pulling out his phone he typed.

 

"Too soon to ask if you're ready for a pint? GL."

 

When the reply came he smiled.

 

"I was ready two pints ago.  When and where? JW"

 

Whatever happens, they may not be ready, but they may just survive.

 

 

 

 


	342. Frosted glass

7\. Frosted glass

 

Mycroft can honestly say that his admiration and respect for Greg is endless.  There’s nothing the man can't do, he is flawless in every way.  Admirable, brave, charming, delectable, enchanting, foxy. ' Foxy?' Mycroft lightly shook his head,  where did that come from? Is it even a word?  Well if it's not he is making it one.  It's all delectable fault, it mess with his mind and now he is thinking naughty thoughts.  Well he can make two alphabetical lists. One for professional where the admirable, brave and so forth sorts into, the rest can go under his naughty list, like delectable and foxy can be sorted. 

 

"My are you listening?" Mycroft shook his head to get his concentration back to where it's supposed to be.

 

Mind you, it didn't really left Greg, it just. .....expanded.....

 

Yeah too all those lovely words and lists...

 

"My!"

 

"Hmm." Mycroft refocused on the man in front of him.   In shredded jeans, an old metal band t-shirt and All-stars.  He didn't even know the man had those kind of shoes.

 

"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Greg asked with a slight worry.

 

"You." Mycroft answered honestly.

 

"Me?" Greg asked surprised. 

 

"I came to ask if you're still okay or need anything."

 

"Nah I'm good, maybe a beer when I'm done.  So what do you think so far?" Mycroft didn't want to look away from Greg but alas, he had too, so he looked behind Greg.   When Mycroft once said he hates his big shower just because the glass was so open and transparent that it made him uncomfortable.   So Greg decided on spraying it so it looked like frosted glass.  Turns out, Greg can be a real handyman. He must admit as it made a huge difference.   Greg even asked him if he wanted the whole glass solid or did he wanted patterns.   Mycroft decided on little waving lines across the glass.  Greg sticks the template on and sprayed. It was dry now so he was removing the templates and Mycroft smiled.  It was a very good idea, the frosted glass provided enough privacy and the patterns gave it a wonderful professional look and homely effect.

 

Mycroft slowly walked closer to Greg before he leaned in his space.

 

"I can't wait to test it out without you."

 

"Let's give it another hour and then we'll have a go."

 

 

 


	343. Consumed

8\. Consumed

 

The moment Greg realised he wasn’t going to make it out or to a safe distance from the bomb he had to think fast. He was grateful that he was able to get Sally of the boat with the other team, leaving him alone with the body, and waiting for the forensics to arrive.   The only reason he found the bomb was because he dropped his lighter and it rolled to the side.   It was on a timer and he had about two minutes left.   Calling it in, he started the engine and drove to the middle of the river, the only way to minimising the damage of the blast.   Trying to take a deep breath he took off his coat, shoes and jacket.   He switched the phone off and put the sim card in his wallet before he made sure it was safely secured in his socks before he dived into the water just as it was blowing up.  

 

The problem was that he jumped on the side not visible to the docks and when Sherlock and John arrived the only thing they were seeing was an explosion. 

 

Sherlock stared in shock as John tried to calm down Sally who was crying out for Greg.  

 

They watched in shock as the fire consumed the boat and it burned out.  Mycroft arrived ten minutes later and his face was ashen, already informed of what happened.   Without thinking he ran to the edge of the docks watching the coastguard and police boats surrounding the burning boat.   Greg was not dead.  He refused to believe it and forced himself to look away from the wreckage and looked down the shores.   About fifty yards away he could see something holding on to one of those metal bars against the concrete walls.  "Sherlock! John!" He yelled as he ran towards it.  It was Greg and he didn't look like he could hold on for much longer.  Mycroft ripped off his jacket and pocket watch, kicked off his shoes and put his phone next to his watch as he dived into the water.  Sherlock and John were on his heels, running to the top of the metal bars. 

 

Mycroft grabbed Greg and helped him up, who was barely awake.   Mycroft lifted while Sherlock and John leaned over to help them up.  Some emergency people saw it and rushed over to help as well.   After a lot of struggle they finally were able to lift him out. Mycroft didn’t let go of his hand as it clutched Greg's.  He stared at the man on the stretcher, drenches with a few scratches and lacerations on his torso.  If he didn’t look, Greg would’ve drowned and it sent shivers down his spine.  He couldn’t even bear the thought that for a few minutes he thought he was dead.  Not faking dead, but dead dead.  No coming back and it scared Mycroft, from the look in Sherlock’s eyes, it scared him too.

 

 

 


	344. Missive

9\. Missive

 

The tension was still high in the house.   Sherlock just got the all clear that he could work on certain cases with Greg.  The 'certain cases' was not Greg's idea; no it was Sherlock's.   Only those he deemed worthy enough of his attention. 

 

The current case luckily fell into that category.  Although Greg was somewhat use to Sherlock’s attitude and behaviour the rest of his team weren't and therefore the tension was a little higher than normal.  Sally wanted to punch him or throw him in a cell and lose the key; Greg was trying to figure out which one, most likely the one with the less paperwork. 

 

Anderson, yeah, that can be a potential problem right there. 

 

The victim was found stuffed into a garbage bin with his tongue removed.  Sherlock had a theory about that and when they followed the evidence they were lead to this small abandoned house.  

 

It was clearly a safe house. Now an empty safe house but still they need to have a look around. 

 

They split up in pairs and would take each room, Greg took Sherlock with him and they were searching the bedroom when Sherlock stepped on the floorboard when they heard the squeak.  They turned to each other before looking down.  Greg grouched down with Sherlock following.   Using Sherlock's pocket knife which Greg would deny existing they opened the panel and smiled. 

 

There in front of them was a whole lot stack of missive letters, all with government stamps.   Greg browses through it.

 

"Oh boy."

 

"What?" Sherlock asked as he looked closer.  Greg held out a sealed envelope and on it was Mycroft’s name.

 

"We need to call your brother, don’t we?"

 

Sherlock nodded and pulled out his phone. 

 

"I think our case is about to be taken over by Mycroft."

 

"So until he shows we should look and take in as much as we can?" Sherlock turned to him, a smile on his lips. 

 

"You know what, this might work out Graham."

 

"Greg."

 

"Hmm."

 

 

 


	345. Lamplight

 10. Lamplight

 

Sherlock unlocked the door with a familiar ease, he was so used to breaking into Greg’s place that by now it was a second nature.  Greg did give him a spare key, but let’s be honest: where’s the fun in that?  Its good practise, he needs to stay on top of his game as much as he can. Closing the door he turned around.  The place was lit with lamps.  He sighed.  Greg was obviously entertaining a man, his brother.  It’s been a few months now, and he still struggles with the idea his brother and his DI are in a relationship.  And happy.

 

Admittedly he thought in the beginning it was just a temporary fling, to let out some kind of hormonal imbalance but now, he can’t deny it.  It just might be permanent. 

 

Slowly he made his way to the living room, keeping his ear out for any sounds that might just be a little above his threshold of allowable.  It was quiet, there wasn’t even music playing.  It was mostly dark except or soft lighting. He glance around the wall and froze.  The room was lit up with a soft lamplight.  The patio doors were open allowing the late summer sun to glance in; a soft breeze was softly blowing between the curtains.  He could see Greg’s back; they were sitting on the swing chair.  Mycroft was tucked under his shoulder.  There was juice and snacks on the small table next to them.

 

He stood there watching them, happy and content with one another.  He walked closer, not sure why.  They must have realised he was there as Greg slightly twisted back and turned his head.

 

“Come on Sherlock, there’s chocolate digestive biscuits with your name on here.”  He wanted to walk away, he wanted to throw a scene, instead he just walked over took a few biscuits and poured himself a glass of juice before sitting on the chair opposite them.

 

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered with his mouth full of food.

 

“Yes it is and I for one are glad you’re here sharing the ridiculous moment with us.” Greg replied as he bit down on a biscuit.  Sherlock just stared before he looked away.  Maybe he can stay here for a moment longer.  The biscuits are good.

 

 

 


	346. Spirals of memory

11\. Spirals of memory

 

Mycroft stood in the middle of the room, his eyes analysing every corner and available space.  Now that he and Greg is officially an item, made for the long-term, he decided it was time that Greg should share more than just his living and physical space.   It is time that he expands his mind palace as well.   Greg deserves more than just a room.  

 

He looked behind him, he is standing in the centre and so far Greg had weaved himself to the heart and foundations of the place

"I must say this is quite extraordinary My." Mycroft turned to Greg walking down the stairs his body relaxed and easy. 

"What is?"

"This place and it's all in your mind?  Wow!" Mycroft smiled and sighed. 

"Hey we should break in every room...."  Greg suggested seductively and Mycroft groaned at loud.

"Gregory...."

"Hey, I'm in your mind, in your little palace everything I say is basically either what you want me to say or what you're really saying." 

"I know, so what does it say about me that I've given you so much free reign in here?" Mycroft asked exasperated.  Greg walked closer till they stood face to face. 

"It says that you are either very smart or very stupid."

"I'd go with stupid." Both turned to the newcomer standing at the door. 

"Sherlock what are you doing here?"

"I just came from back there in your 'brother' section; you’re placing me between the family room and business room?"

"I'm most certainly not putting you in the bedroom department." Mycroft retorted and Greg giggled.

"That's my place." Sherlock pulled a face.

"Gross."

"Hey, did you see My is putting in a swimming pool!"  Greg cried out to Sherlock who shook his head.

"It's all your fault,  this place was compartmentalised,  and dark colours and all business,  now it's a living room and recreation room, a pool and bright colours and staircases in modern design instead of ancient Victorian and instead of compartments it's built in a rounded spiral design."

"My idea, called it spirals of memory so that Mycroft doesn’t have to close each door before going into a new room, with a spiral staircase he can access everything he needs at once." Greg smiled at Mycroft who smiled back.

"It will certainly save me more time, now with all the added rooms." Mycroft explained as he looked around.

"And your work?" Sherlock asked his head tilted to the side.

"In the basement where it always was."

Sherlock stepped closer.

"You do realise with this, you’ll be more vulnerable?"

"I'll be more protected as Greg is here, everywhere and in every room; after all he is the centre, the spiral that brings it together." Mycroft stated as he looked at Greg.  Sherlock snorted and walked out.

"Going to the pool, swimming with John."

Greg walked towards Mycroft, taking his hand and kissed him gently.

 

"I love you."

 

And just like that, the palace turned into a warm and comfortable home.

 

 

 


	347. Silver

12\. Silver

 

Mycroft and Greg were on their way to his parents for the weekend.  Both were looking forward to it; however they were currently stuck on the side of a long and quite lonely road.

 

"How come this place doesn't have a phone signal?" Mycroft exclaimed as he opened the car boot and started going through the luggage. 

 

"This is the country side My, signal is medium strength at best, and we just happened to be on the stretch of road where there is none." Greg answered as he looked at the two flat wheels. One would be okay as they do have a spare tyre but two is just problematic.  Greg turned back to Mycroft who had opened a small black briefcase 

 

"Yo, James Bond what are you doing?"

 

"I'm not James Bond." Mycroft mumbled. Greg smirked. 

 

"M then." Mycroft mumbled something that Greg couldn’t make out but didn't let it bother him.  He watched as he took out a phone he haven't seen before 

 

"What's that?"  He asked. 

 

"It's a satellite phone." Mycroft replied as he started dialling.

 

"Call your parents not your minions." Greg quickly said as he stepped closer.  Mycroft stopped the call and turned to Greg, confused with the request.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because Love, they need their time off as well.  We are close enough that your dad can help us out."

 

"Very well." Mycroft quickly called his parents while Greg took out some water for them. He waited till Mycroft got back in the car before he handed it to Mycroft. 

 

"Thank you.  My dad will be here in twenty minutes."

 

"Awesome.  You know we can always make out in the back seat till he gets here?" Greg commented with the air of nonchalance.   Mycroft turned to him and Greg started smiling.  

 

 

 

When Mycroft's dad stops there twenty minutes later it was to find too highly blushed and dishevelled men with Mycroft's shirt buttoned up but he, or Greg, missed a hole.  He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible before he spoke.

 

"Looks like you two found a silver lining to your predicament."

 

 

 


	348. Festival of lights

 

13\. Festival of lights

 

It wasn’t an anniversary or special occasion just a couple taking time out of their busy schedule to get away for the weekend.  

 

Okay, that's a lie.  That’s the story Mycroft spun to Greg however Mycroft had a plan, a wonderful plan.  He was going to make this weekend amazing and memorable. 

 

The thing is, he is going to propose to Greg this weekend.   He arrange for his private plane to take them to Thailand.   It was the annual festival of lights and he remembered that Greg once said he wants to go there someday.  Well this coming weekend is that someday. They arrived just in time to settle down and have a comfortable dinner.  Mycroft booked a suite for them and an amazing view over the city and the area where the festival would be.  Neither wanted to be in the group with the lanterns and lights, both just happy to be spectators.   This fitted in nicely with his plans as they had an uninterrupted view, a suite with a personal chef, that he prearranged and an undisturbed weekend. 

 

They woke the morning to the sounds of the beaches and laughter and a wonderful and intimate morning they took a stroll on the beach and the market.   Got back in time for a late lunch or early supper depending on who you ask.  With cocktails in their hands they made their way to their veranda to watch the festival.   Greg was so engrossed that he didn't notice when Mycroft slipped back inside and back out again    Mycroft waited till the lights were far in the sky, looking like bright stars before he turned towards Greg and slowly got down on one knee, the ring in a small velvet box. Mycroft would never forget the expression on Greg's face as tears started running and he got down on one knee as well before he held out his hand.   The lanterns and light sparkled like stars on the ring and Mycroft knew.  It would be a weekend he will always remember.

 

 

 

 

 


	349. Shiver

14\. Shiver

 

It started as a dare; Greg dared Mycroft to spend an entire weekend with him in nothing but casual wear.   Mycroft didn't realise that every person's casual is different from the next. 

 

For example his casual is taking off his jacket and maybe, a big maybe, rolling up his sleeves.

 

Greg on the other hand, definition of casual was either faded jeans or shorts.  With a shirt.   He should’ve known, but no, he wanted to bigger and braver and all macho.

 

"You're ready to go Love?" Mycroft turned around to Greg standing in the doorway in his football gear, the black shorts, and the red socks the wide shirt with his name on the back.  "LESTRADE."  The uniform was always one of the main components in his brain to seize for a few minutes. 

 

"Are you sure I look alright?" He asked instead of answering.   He was wearing navy blue jeans, the latest leathers sandals with a dark blue button up.   Long-sleeved but it was rolled up to show his arms.   Greg looked up and down. 

 

"You look wonderful and I can't wait to get you home and take it off."

 

"We are home, we can always stay in."

 

"Oh no, not so easy.   I'll just get rid of my frustration on the field by kicking a ball."

 

"What about my frustration?" Mycroft asked with a straight face.   Greg walked over as if a hunter to its prey.   Mycroft could feel the shiver down his spine, Greg noticed and smiled wider.  He leaned forward kissing Mycroft's neck.

 

"You can cheer me on and make little lists of exactly what you want to do to me and this uniform when we get home."

 

Mycroft struggled to get his breathing under control. 

 

Greg leaned more forward so he could press against him, his lips grazing Mycroft's earlobe.

 

"You can also count exactly how many people, women and men, ogle you in these clothes if above 50 I'll let you tie me up." Mycroft let out a loud moan before he just nodded. 

 

"Great!" Greg replied as he stepped back and makes a slow show of picking up his bag.

 

"Let's go then."

 

 

 


	350. Yearning

 15. Yearning

 

Mycroft's eyes were glued to the screen.  It's not every day that you find such a fine man in such a fine uniform.

 

As the shots rang out it broke through Mycroft's daydreaming.  It's a funeral, it’s serious and here he is yearning for a man while a family is in grief. 

 

"How cold do you want to be?" Mycroft asked himself as he watched the proceedings, he really shouldn't but it's one of Greg's friends and colleagues that died.  

 

Since he was on the force and died on duty he received a formal burial, which meant uniforms, which meant Greg was in uniform, and Mycroft can't remember the last time he was so happy with uniforms.  

 

Now he knows Sherlock’s fascination with John's army days...

 

He watched as Greg made a speech and Mycroft could see the pain and grief in his face as he spoke.   The man had a wife and children, the youngest barely twelve and even Mycroft's heart clenched as he watched how the mom tried to comfort them.

 

After the ceremony Greg stayed behind to talk and offer his help to the family, the women cried on his shoulder as they started throwing dirt on the casket.  He stood there until it was time to leave.   He eyes followed Greg to his car and stayed on him as he just sat in the car; he was trying to get his composure back. 

 

His heart yearned to be with Greg to comfort him in this moment but he didn't dare to impose without knowing if it would be welcomed.   He stopped watching as Greg finally drove off.

 

It was twenty minutes later when Anthea came in, announcing that Inspector Lestrade was here to see him, and he immediately noticed the little blush on her cheek.  'So she has a soft spot for uniforms as well.'

 

He nodded and stood up as Greg came in and Mycroft had to use every single ounce of brainpower to act nonchalant.

 

"Detective Inspector. What can I do for you?"

 

Greg didn’t answer as he walked in and walked to him.

 

"If I answer honestly, will you still help?" Greg asked softly.  Mycroft nodded as he had no idea how to respond.

 

"Can you hug me?"

 

Mycroft blinked and Greg replied quickly.

 

"Not long or tight just a quick touch?" He wanted comfort and he came to him, he didn’t know what Greg sees in him or what made him stand out but before he could answer he pulled Greg close.   Greg immediately wrapped his arms around Mycroft and when he pulled away Mycroft tightens his hold on Greg, who just sagged deeper into the embrace. 

 

"I'm sorry about your friend Gregory." Mycroft whispered.  

 

"Thanks." Greg replied as held on to him. 

 

Mycroft didn't care how long they stood like that, it was the best afternoon he had in a long time.

 

 

 


	351. Benediction

16\. Benediction

 

 

 

It was a scheduled public benediction of some politician or other.   Greg didn't pay attention.  His team was asked along with the whole Met to act as additional security with the secret service.   Sherlock refused to help or be part of it.  Greg wanted to refuse but unfortunately he did have that choice given to him. 

 

Luckily because of his rank he didn't have to stand outside in the sun, nor wear his uniform.   He had a black suit, a crisp white shirt and black tie. 

 

He looked good even if he had to say so himself.

 

Where he was placed he could see most of the proceedings and his eye would seek after Mycroft any chance he gets.  But that was only because Mycroft's eye would look for his.

 

At first he thought it was because he did something wrong, standing or breathing because hell, they practically dressed him.   He gave a mental groan.

 

'The tie’ his brain supplied, ever since he was a kid he hated the damn things and it never wanted to sit right on him.  

 

Shit. 

 

He'll need to go to the bathroom and see if he can salvage the situation. 

 

He looked around and saw the man standing next to him, they were paired together.   He was upstairs looking down at the proceedings while Mycroft was seated downstairs opposite him.

 

'Stop looking! I know I look ridiculous, no need for you stare like that.' Greg thought as he tried his best not to fidget. 

 

Mycroft's eyes widen as he narrowed on Greg, a silent question in them.

 

"Another five minutes and it will be all over." The man next to Greg whispered and Greg sighed in relief. 

 

'Great' he couldn't wait to get out of this monkey suit.  Some footy and a beer and he'll forget this day.

 

Instead he smiled at the man in response, and to his surprise, the man smiled back.

 

'Oh hello.'

 

'Oh shit.' He nearly said out loud as Mycroft took that moment to watch them, no him, again.  His eyes narrowed and his eyes shifted to the man next to him and Greg could see the hidden anger. 

 

'What on earth did the man do? He's the one with the askew tie.'

 

Right then the ceremony was over and they could leave to the briefing room.

 

It all went well, when the door opened and Mycroft stepped in. He looked at the man giving the debriefing ignoring every one.

 

"Mr. Beresford when you're done, may I please borrow Detective Inspector Lestrade from the Yard?"

 

"Certainly Mr. Holmes, shall I send him to your temporary office for the day?"

 

"That would be great. Thank you." Without a glance he walked out.  Greg wanted to hit his head; at least the reprimanding will be private. 

 

The man showed Greg to Mycroft’s office and opened the door.   Greg walked with heavy steps into the room; Mycroft was standing against the window looking out to the street.  Greg waited till the door closed before he spoke.

 

"I'm sorry, I know my tie was probably twisted or something, but I've always struggled with it, I think it's my neck, it's allergic to ties or something.   I did try you know."

 

Mycroft turned to him, his face soft.

 

"Come here, look out the window." Confused Greg walked closer and stood next to Mycroft. Mycroft moved so he was standing behind Greg. 

 

"I couldn't concentrate with you in this suit, I kept fantasising about how I would rip it off you, and the tie, I've never felt jealousy over an object before." Greg froze, his blood rushing with lust so fast he felt dizzy.

 

Mycroft turned Greg around and pressed him against the glass.

 

"So the question is, can I rip the tie off you, and most likely the suit as well and have you right here, right now?"

 

Greg reached out his hands to Mycroft’s hips pulling him closer.

 

"As long as that tie never goes around my neck again."

 

 

 

 

 


	352. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.   
> It's a bit depressing. I was reading some mystrade angst and it influenced me..   
> I blame peer pressure.

17\. Interlude

 

The window was cold and Greg could see the winter trying to fog up the glass in the corners but the inside heating was putting up one hell of a fight.  Feeling conflicted he tried to figure out where he wants to be, inside or outside?  Either way he was feeling cold inside regardless of his surroundings. 

 

It was time to face facts; he was in his fifties, divorced with a wife who took him to the cleaners so to speak.   He moved into a small flat and after several months still hasn’t unpacked fully.   He just doesn't see the point.   Just as he doesn't see the point in being here tonight.   It was supposed to be a Christmas dinner.   John and Mary decided to have it at Baker Street as it was the closest to everyone, but most importantly, it was a sure way to guarantee that Sherlock would be there.   Mrs. Hudson provided the good old solid dinner while the Watson made sure there's enough snacks and alcohol.   Even Mrs. Tuner from next door was helping as her "married ones" went to Spain for Christmas.  

 

In retrospect Greg should be happy that he was here, important enough to be invited. 

 

The thing was he wasn’t. 

 

After several glasses of wine and a few beers he was convinced he was there out of pity.  After all he was single, alone and on duty. Alcohol is ultimately a depressant and was living up to its name.  Greg was feeling depressed. 

 

Finishing his drink he looked around and saw that Sherlock and Mycroft locked in a deduction game.   The TV was on; one of that reality show reruns and John challenged them to deduce the participants.   Mary was sitting close by, giving her two cents just to liven it up. Mrs Hudson and Mrs Turner were in the kitchen chatting away but most likely the good old days. 

 

Greg was alone.   He gave a smile,  considering that the Holmes brothers always declared that alone is okay,  and caring is not an advantage,  they were the ones always surrounded by people that cared for them.  The jingle indicating a commercial break was welcoming as it served as some kind of interlude to the Holmes drama he is witnessing.   Mycroft is obviously winning but Sherlock is the only one counting as the rest thought it all good fun.  

 

He made up his mind, when the commercial break is over he is leaving.   He made his way to the kitchen to put his glass in the sink, turning his attention to the two lovely ladies.

 

"Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Turner thank you for a lovely evening, I really enjoyed it."

 

"You're not leaving already?" Mrs. Hudson voice was soft, band her body contradicted her question as she stood up to hug him. He hugged her back.

 

"Afraid so, I'm on call and would like to have an early night, the chances of getting called in early are high."

 

After saying his goodbyes to them he greeted John,  he wanted to greet the rest but they were back to deducing and commenting on the participants,  he will just cause unwanted attention on himself if he interrupted them to so he just pulled on his jacket and made his way out.  The best part was that once he was outside he actually felt better.  The fact that he was feeling better in the cold than in the warmth was bothering him, but he decided it was a worry for another day. 

 

 

 


	353. Multi-layered

18\. Multi-layered

 

Mycroft made his way to Greg's office, a coffee and sandwich in his hand, and the ever present umbrella.   

 

Sally stopped him before he could enter.

 

"He's down in interrogation, it's going to be a while you can take it down to him if you'd like?"

 

"Yes please, it won't cause him problems?" He asked just to be on the safe side.  Sally smiled.

 

"No.  Do you want me to show you the way or do you know where it is?"

 

"I've been there once before thank you." With a nod she walked back towards her desk with Mycroft making his way to Greg

 

Mycroft went into the observation room; it was small yet comfortable, in the back was the typist with earphones, obviously transcribing the whole interview.   He ignored Mycroft and Mycroft ignored him instead focusing on the occupants in the room.  Greg was interviewing a woman, clearly responsible for the murder.  Their voices filled the room. 

 

"Mrs. Morris, why didn't you even try to run or get rid of the evidence?" Greg's voice was loud and clear, factual with a hint of curiosity.

 

"Didn't think about it you know." The woman replied, half bored with the situation.

 

"Why did you kill him?"

 

"Because I was tired."

 

"Tired?" Greg disbelief showed in his voice and Mycroft felt the same. 

 

Here the woman first showed some real emotion and both Greg and Mycroft was surprised by the intensity of it.

 

"Life does not always turn out like they do in fairy tales you know, the ones where one is rich and sophisticated and the other poor just trying to get by." Mycroft took a breath and even though he couldn't see Greg’s face he saw his shoulders tense up. Oblivious the women went on.

 

"Life is a much more multi-layered conundrum like that; the screens show the happy parts not the real life parts.  It may started out as beautiful happily ever after, but they don't show the behind the scenes.   The parts where you always feel inferior, like you’re going to be kicked off the show any moment. 'Sorry this plot line is over now'. They don't show the parts where you tried to get your rich partner to do the everyday things you had to do, because you couldn't afford hired help, like doing laundry, and then you see his face of contempt at something so pedestrian.   Or where he takes you to a restaurant or holiday so far from your budget, you didn’t even dare to put it on a 'one day' list.   And he flounder the money and champagne and caviar like it's and every day occurrence and you sat there knowing you'll never be able to do that." She turned quiet and Mycroft could see how her words were affecting Greg, after all he is in a similar boat, dating Mycroft.   Mycroft on the other hand could feel his heart aching, a desire to rush in and tell her it's not always like that. 

 

He didn't. 

 

The woman started laughing, a dry ugly sound.

 

"The best part is when you move in together,  to see the difference so blatantly displayed in the furniture,  and he jokes and placate you by saying ' don't worry we'll find a place for your sofa' and it's in the back room,  the one's hardly visited by his colleagues and acquaintances,  no they get the proper  polished furniture,  the 'this one was my great grandfather's back in the day when old Vicky was still alive' and you are too happy in the new relationship to care." Mycroft felt as if he was being thrown in a cold icy pool, Greg's hands were shaking because they just had that discussion last week when he asked Greg to move in.  Greg didn't have much in the financial side nor furniture and belongings, losing most due to the divorce. 

 

Greg didn't say anything; he didn’t know what to say.  

 

The only he managed to whisper was one sentence.

 

"So you killed him because he was rich? After ten years of marriage?"

 

"No Inspector,  I killed him because I was tired of feeling worthless to everybody,  his family,  his colleagues,  his work, I was just the trophy wife who had to feel gratitude for being saved out of a poor background and life." Greg didn’t reply instead he just closed the file and stood up making his way out.   Finally facing the window behind him Mycroft nearly chocked, Greg looked defeated and the women's words had struck a chord, unable to bear it he opened the door to leave, not realising Greg left as well until they both were in the corridor.

 

"My?" Greg asked as Mycroft tried to rush out, he stopped and slowly turned around. 

 

"I....I came to give you this." Mycroft held the pastry bag and coffee out.

 

Greg stepped closer but Mycroft didn't look him in the eyes.

 

"Coffee is cold now." Greg slowly took the coffee and bag, while his other hand lifted Mycroft’s chin.

 

"Good thing we have a microwave.  Share my pastry please?" Mycroft slowly relaxed as he stared into Greg's eyes. 

 

"Okay."

 

 

 


	354. Softens

19\. Softens

 

Mycroft watched as Greg moved in his kitchen, they’ve been dating for a while now and Greg decided it was time to teach Mycroft how to bake a cake, not just any cake, a mug cake.

 

"Gregory, I think I should once again voice my opinion on this matter."

 

"No you don't. You've already voiced your doubt at the idea of a cake in a mug, made in a microwave instead of an oven, but that’s bolllocks.  You are giving this a try, and you will enjoy it."

 

Greg pointed his finger at Mycroft who just stared back.  Mycroft finally know when he was beaten and instead held out his hands.

 

"Where's my apron?"

 

"Not wearing any, not necessary." Greg replied as he took out two more mugs and putting the flour on the table.

 

"Not necessary?" Mycroft looked stunned and Greg loved that look, in response he walked over to Mycroft and pulled him close for a breath-taking kiss. 

 

When he pulled away he smiled.

 

"No.  It will be so quick and easy and clean you'll be done before you know it."

 

"Promise?"

 

"Promise, when it gets out of the microwave we can put a huge dollop of ice-cream on top and enjoy our instant desert.  Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla?"

 

"Chocolate."

 

"Good choice Mr. Holmes."

 

Mycroft just shook his head as he stand next to Greg. 

 

“Now first things first, some recipes require butter, other oil, it depends on the one you’re using,  I prefer butter, now I took it out of the fridge so it softens to room temperature."

 

"Butter is a good choice." Mycroft replied with a smile.

 

"Now first you get your tablespoon and add your dry ingredients first..."

 

Fifteenth minutes later they were sitting on the sofa each with a mug cake and ice-cream.   Mycroft was so enchanted with the whole idea that he convinced Greg to try another flavour as well.

 

 

 


	355. Requiem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me trying something new. I haven't done a just text fic before, so yeah, I hope it's okay.

20\. Requiem

06 Jan

"I wish you'd reply to my texts. GL"

"I've been trying to get your attention for three weeks. GL"

"Tell me. GL"

 

10 Jan

"At least tell me what I did wrong that you decided to end this relationship. GL"

"Tell me. GL"

 

13 Jan

"Not even an explanation, just a man in a suit telling me this relationship is over and you wish to no longer see me. GL"

 

14 Jan

"Does this count CCTV?

 

I'm just asking because the way you kept tabs on me and Sherlock means you could see me. That is if it counts. You know see as in not physically see but see as in weird screen wise. GL"

 

17 Jan.

"I guess it involves the not bothering with the curtesy too answer 'see" as well. GL"

 

"I'm so glad that both you and Sherlock find time in your busy 'above all people schedules' to come down to earth and talk to a person. GL"

 

"Tell me. GL"

 

14 Feb

"Happy valentine. Hope that Cupid is a bit wiser than to shoot me with an arrow this time. GL"

 

"Maybe he'll send a criminal with a gun? GL"

 

"Please. Tell me. GL"

 

6 Jun

"Caught a cannibal today, wanted to make a Hannibal reference, but Sally said it will be distasteful and Sherlock wouldn't get it. GL"

 

30 Jun.

"Happy birthday Greg. Sorry for breaking your heart, at least you had one to break, imagine me. GL"

 

"Thhhanx Mycoft. What kind woooordsss. Cheeeers uppp. G"

 

"Whhy woon't you telll me? GL"

 

07 Jul

"Do you think our relationship will be remembered with a requiem? After all, it’s the strongest of loves, which breaks the heart so completely. GL"

 

"I'll remember it with a requiem, have to, it was the moment my heart shattered into a thousand sunrays scorching the desert plane of my soul. GL"

 

"Tell me! GL"

 

"TELL ME! GL"

 

14 Jul.

"When you stand up, do me a favour and look down. See that stuff under your shoes? It's not ants, its people. GL "

 

"Do you know the difference?"

 

19 Jul.

"Greg, I heard a mystery through the grapevine, you keep asking Mycroft to tell you. What must he tell you? JW. "

"He told me how to believe in myself, he told me how to appreciate the finer things in life. He taught my heart to love John, but he didn't tell me. GL"

"Tell you what? JW?”

"How to live without him. GL"

 

03 Dec

"Detective Inspector. MH"

 

"Inspector. MH"

 

"Gregory. MH"

 

"Don't make me call! MH"

 

Dialling….

 

"The number you dialled does not exist.”


	356. Thrum

21\. Thrum

 

It wasn’t difficult to see that the case had an effect on every one.   For some more than others.   Specifically for Greg.   After Sherlock caught the murderer, Greg send both him and John back to their flat without so much as a 'remember the paperwork'.  He didn't say anything much at all.

 

After his team finished their paperwork he sent them home early.  He was the last to leave. 

 

He even arrange it somehow that his team had the following day off.  No one complained. 

 

Mycroft noticed that after Greg went home he stopped at the off licence closest to him and bought a six pack of beer and a bottle of whisky.   There was no need to be a Holmes to know what Greg was planning for the rest of the night and his off day.

 

Finishing for the day he made his way to Greg's place.  His flat was quite central to both his work and to Mycroft’s.   If only he knew that or choose it for that reasons.   Alas.

 

The first thing he noticed when the car stopped was that most of the lights were off, in fact you have to look really close to see the small light the lamp was making.   No overhead lights.   Without a second thought he made his way inside and upstairs to his door. He didn't even bother to knock, as he quickly picks the lock and went in.

 

It took a moment for him to adjust to the darkness inside; blinking a few times he walked to the living room.   The sight that greeted him would always be one of his favourites.  He knows he's supposed to be worried but seeing Greg in his slacks, barefoot, shirt hanging open and a loose cigarette dangling between his lips and oh.. he was holding a guitar.   A beautiful acoustic guitar capable of playing the most beautiful sounds.  However, at the moment Greg's fingers would occasionally pick and thrum a string so only a mismatch sound could be heard. 

 

"I didn't know you play." Mycroft’s voice was straight and noteworthy in the confusion of sounds.  Greg just turned to him and smiled.

 

"This isn't playing; this is Sherlock idea of annoying you with ugly string sounds."

 

"He does that." Smiling Greg indicated Mycroft could sit if he wanted to and Mycroft didn't pass the moment to see more of this Greg. 

 

"I'll offer you a drink, but I'm not sure it's your taste." Greg looked at the bottle and at Mycroft who shook his head. 

 

"Heard there was a tough case?"

 

Greg just made a non-committal sound as he took a drag of his cigarette. 

 

"I take it you play to get your mind of it." Mycroft asked.  Greg nodded.

 

"Would you play for me?"  Greg stared at Mycroft for a while and instead of answering he just shifted the guitar and started playing.  Mycroft was impressed and found himself relaxing as Greg played.

 

They stayed like that in silence, with Mycroft listening and Greg playing in to the late hours of the night.

 

 

 


	357. Moonlight

22\. Moonlight

 

Greg stood outside the house his back resting against the wall it was a warm summer's night and for once the moon was visible.  Although the moonlight was soft and clear, the streetlights dimmed the natural light.  Greg wished he was in the country right about now or laying on the grass next to a pond or in that little corner of his garden, especially for moments like these.  He loved moment like these. The peace, not the worry and pain inside the house.

 

Looking up to the light shining out the bedroom window, he sent a silent curse to the occupant in the bed.  They thought it was all over, they meaning (Mycroft and he) but no.  Sherlock relapsed and was found in time.  He was brought here to his place to sleep it off, more like vomit and shake it off. Mycroft found him and Sherlock in the shower where Sherlock’s fever became too high and he vomited all over himself.  He undressed so he was standing in his boxers and undershirt, and Sherlock in his briefs.  Greg only remembered now the look of utter shock on Mycroft’s face when he found them in the shower together.  Sherlock was a near dead weight and Greg had his share of work trying to keep him upright, wash him off and make sure he stays alive.  Mycroft read the situation for what it was and before Greg could say anything he had taken off his jacket and waistcoat, rolled up his sleeves and helped Greg.  Greg did the most with Mycroft handing him towels to dry himself whereas he dried his brother.  Using an extra pair of pyjamas they dressed Sherlock and made sure he was comfortable. 

 

Greg just put on he’s running tracks and an t-shirt, while Mycroft was busy with Sherlock, leaving Greg to go make tea or get a beer, whichever would be the most efficient.  While waiting for the kettle to boil, Greg quickly stepped out to get some fresh air before going back in there and dealing with the fallout.  The problem was, even thought they were both concerned for Sherlock, Greg didn’t miss the way Mycroft reacted to seeing him half naked.  They both have been dancing around each other for a few months now, and Greg has a suspicion, that him standing half naked and half wet, wasn’t helping.

 

The kettle boiled and Greg stepped back in to make the tea, but Mycroft beat him too it.

 

“May I?” Mycroft asked as he picked the kettle up.

 

“Go for it.”  Greg replied and watched as Mycroft made the tea, clearly having no trouble with the bags or the fact that it was in different colour mugs. 

 

“How’s he?” Greg finally asked, still standing in the doorway, to see the moon.

 

“Sleeping now, the worst is over, but well keep an eye on him.”  Mycroft replied and to Greg’s surprise stood next to him, watching the moon, as he handed Greg his tea.  They both stood there in silence, drinking the tea and watching the moon.

 

“I’ve always loved the moon.” Mycroft uttered softly. 

 

“The mystery, the enigma and the clandestine quality?”  Greg asked.  Mycroft shook his head.

 

“The darkness, staying hidden when the light is out.”

 

“Well, I if you want to look at it like that. I don’t.”

 

“You are a romantic at heart Gregory.”

 

“True.  But seriously, you forget the most important thing about the moon.”

 

“What might that be?”  Mycroft asked, his face betraying the confusion he felt.

 

“Everyone wants to be the sun, shining in someone’s life when all is well, but few shine like the moon, they shine in the darkness, they bring light when there seems to be no light.  If you think yourself like the moon Mycroft, I’d have to agree. You sure as hell are shining brightly in this dark night.”

 

 

 


	358. Twinkle lights

23\. Twinkle lights

 

If anyone would be checking Mycroft’s search history they would either be concerned, or surprised.  Either way, it would never in their wildest dreams be something they would think to find on his browser history.  Mycroft was searching, wait for it… romantic picnics for your partner and you. 

 

Yes the British Government was looking for ways to surprise his partner with a beautiful romantic evening out.  In their backyard.  After a whole day of searching he found the perfect evening.  Leaving work early he spent the entire afternoon fixing everything up to make it perfect.  Greg was always the one spoiling him, making romantic plans for them and going out of his way to spoil Mycroft, so he thought it was time to do the same.  Knowing Greg is a fan of the small things, the little things he thought hell save the weekend trip to Paris or Switzerland for a later stage.  An anniversary or birthday perhaps. 

 

Greg got home just after six; he was tired and quite frustrated with his day.  As he entered the home, he knew something was different.

 

“My?” He called out as he took off his jacket.  As if on cue, the lights dimmed and a string of twinkle fairy lights lit the floor.  It was in the middle of the floor and was clearly there to light his path.  Smiling he followed the lights, as it led him to their back garden.  He was so focused on the pathway that he wasn’t paying attention until he was surrounded by twinkle lights.  Mycroft stood in the middle of their patio, surrounded by hundreds of strings and light.  He was holding a big bouquet of red roses.

 

“Love?” Greg was in awe as he stepped closer to Mycroft, who held out the roses.

 

“Good evening my dearest.”

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Something to show my love and appreciating for you.  Dinner, wine, good music and a romantic ambiance with some very passionate gratitude later on.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Very passionate you say?”

 

“Let’s just say, the dinner is heavily on protein.”

 

“You mean a good juicy steak?”

 

“indeed.”

 

“I love you My.”

 

“I love you.”

 

 

 


	359. Anointed light

24 Anointed light

 

Greg watched the proceedings with his usual stance and tired face.  His notebook was open, the pen hovering above the page.  He really wished he was elsewhere at the moment, but on the other hand, not really.  Sherlock was inspecting the crime scene as if it was the best Christmas present ever.  John was standing in the doorway, looking a bit amazed at everything around the room.  Mycroft was standing in the hallway, his face a mixture about affronted and dignified.  To Greg the most bizarre of this entire set up, was that the crime scene was Mycroft’s flat, his bedroom to be specific.

 

He came home, went did his exercise and then went to have a shower, by the time he was finished, most of the daylight was gone and as he flip the switch to the bedroom light it shone with a ultraviolet light instead of the normal light.  The biggest surprise was the messages written all over the room, his walls, the ceiling, and the floor everything was decorated with messages and pictures and calculations.  There were spatters against the wall, mimicking blood spatter. Words as “you’re next” “I know what you did”  “the ice won’t help now.” “See you soon” was written all over.  On the bed were two body outlines, one with a target mark in its head, the other where the heart would be. 

 

A note was between the bodies.  That note is currently in Sherlock’s hand, it shook Greg to the core.

 

“We try so hard to keep secrets don’t we?  But UV light is like an anointed light, revealing the truth we try so hard to keep hidden.”

 

Greg looked up at Mycroft, and he could see the man was trying very hard not to show his true emotions, he was scared, someone broke into his home, no their home, and left a message to Mycroft.  Right now he is hiding it under the feelings of affronted, but because the first person he called was Greg and Sherlock, then his people was a testament to his true feelings.

 

Someone managed to get into the British Government’s home, in his private room and trashed it.  Making his mind up he closed the book and put it away, he walked over to Mycroft and stood in front of him, wrapping his hands around Mycroft’s.  They were ice cold, even thought it was warm inside.  He didn’t say anything but Mycroft stared at him, slowly relaxing as his hands warmed in Greg’s.  Greg didn’t need to say anything, Mycroft could see it.  They will be okay. Together.

 

 

 


	360. Hope springs

25\. Hope spring

If there was one thing Greg was famous for it was his bulldog tenacity and his stubbornness.  He heard it multiple times throughout the years and even Sherlock muttered it to him more than once.

Mycroft discovered it the hard way, the first time they met up to talk about Sherlock, it was at a café. Greg made him ate a muffin with their coffee.  Mycroft claimed it he was on a diet and Greg said he should have a croissant then or a protein bar.  He did.

The next time Mycroft thought he was clever and decided they were going to take a nice stroll and talk, the park sounded perfect, no food.  He was wrong of course.  Turns out Greg knew the park well and even helped one of the owners of the food stall next to an entrance, meaning they got lunch for discount.  How do you say no to a sandwich when the owner is struggling to make month end and have two small children at home? Greg only allowed him an apple after the sandwich.

Never mind the fact that the sandwich was indeed very good and he knew on more than one occasion Anthea bought sandwiched there ever since.  Apparently she also tries to support the man.  It’s all Gregory’s fault.

So Mycroft thought he should up the game and the next meeting was at the Diogenes club.  His territory his terms.  Alcohol and drinks would be provided but no food, not even a celery stick.

Mycroft watched

Turns out Greg up his game as well.

He brought a homemade lemon pound cake.

“Baked it myself.”

"Excuse me?" Mycroft asked, the surprise making it known through his voice.  Greg smiled in return his eyes sparkling.

"The cake.  I had such a craving for a nice homemade cake, the ones in the shop just can’t compare, I don't have relatives so what's a man to do?" Greg explained as he sat back in the leather sofa as if he owned it and Mycroft decided right there and then he do.  He has met a lot of people and yet Greg is the only one who can make sitting in a leather chair so amazing. 

"So you baked it?" 

"Yup.  It came out real good too, get us some coffee or tea so we can eat it, and want to get your opinion."

"On the cake?" Mycroft asked, before he obeyed Greg and ordered the tea.

Greg nodded.

"Yes. If it's good I'm going to try the chocolate, I’m a sucker for chocolate, dark chocolate to be more precise,  and after that I saw a red velvet one, that looks amazing,  but before I turned into a CakeBoss, I should get an objective opinion."

Mycroft stared that was so much information and he is so used to bargain for it, and here Greg is giving it freely. 'Chocolate? Good to know.'

Instead of sitting behind his desk Mycroft sat in the chair next to Greg. 

"Why do you do this?" He asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

"Do what?" Greg tried to keep a poker face but Mycroft could see it wasn’t working, he had a plan all this time. 

"The food."

"Oh that, thought it be nice with the tea yeah."

"Gregory." Mycroft tried again Greg sighed.

"You're always going on about being on a diet and maybe it's the low intelligence in me but I for the life of me can't see what you are trying to lose."

"So you're hoping to feed me every time we meet."

"Well as they say, hope springs eternal and I will not lose hope that you will see how unnecessary this strict eating is."

It was quiet while the servant brought the tea and Mycroft use the time to think of an appropriate response while they made their tea.  Looking at the cake he opened it and started cutting it in slices.

"Did you know the name pound cake was because of the ingredients?"  He tried, but Greg just picks up his cup and eased back in the chair. 

"1 pound flour, butter, sugar and eggs.  The canvas of the cake and then you can spice it up with a variety of things to add flavour."

"You used lemon."

"Yes I did."

They drank in silence with Greg waiting for Mycroft to take the first bite, and the expression on his face was worth it.

"Gregory, this is amazing."

"I sieved the flour so it becomes denser and castor sugar for better texture.  You see, I see us as a blank canvas an this meetings as the ingredients, and depending on the ingredients, ultimately decided the outcome of the time spent." Mycroft became still as his eyes bore into Greg's.  Greg leaned closer.

"So tell me, shall I try the chocolate one next time?"

Mycroft was quiet as he thought for a moment.  With a genuine smile and some light in his eyes he locked eyes with Greg.

"You said dark chocolate right?  I'll supply the coffee."

 


	361. Stillness

26\. Stillness

 

The trip was longer than what was originally planned and Mycroft was so glad to be finally home.  Usually it wouldn't bother him, but these days it struck a chord and not a sweet melody, no it was more of a screech on a stringed instrument.  

 

These days when he went away he leaves something behind, something he never thought he would give away.  His heart. 

 

Commonly known as Gregory Lestrade. 

 

The first couple of times it wasn’t so hard, he lived alone in his big house and Greg would come over weekends.   Little by little Greg filtered through every part of his life.  He reminded Mycroft of that quote of water, where it says water cut through rock because of persistence of something.   Greg was like that. With perseverance and love and kindness he had cut through all his defences.  

 

In the end Greg had moved into Mycroft’s place, Sherlock nearly had a coronary when that was made public. 

 

The problem was that was when the problems with his going away started.   Greg understood and even though he wasn't always happy he didn't voice it or fought about it.  Mycroft on the other hand wanted to scream.   He didn't want to go anymore, every time it gets harder and harder to leave Greg for days, sometimes weeks at a time.   In those trips there was no kissing, no cuddling, and no cooking together or laying outside on a blanket and stargazing or making out under the stars.

 

There was no soft and strong chest to act as a pillow, no tanned and muscled arms to hold him close.  

 

But now he was home, finally. 

 

Greg was at work, yet Mycroft felt him in the house, his presence was like a calming and soothing balm on his skin after a hard day in the sun.  He was parched and the only thing that could quench his first was Greg.   He walked into the living room, there were files on the coffee table, an empty mug on a coaster, and the open cd case told him Greg was listening to some classical music, his way to remember Mycroft. 

 

His running shoes were bundled in the corner of their bedroom; Mycroft smiled and bend down, placing it neatly together. 

 

Greg made the bed but his pyjamas were thrown over the pillows.   Mycroft undressed and put on Greg's pyjamas.  He fell asleep instantly.

 

When he woke up he realised two things, he was safe in the cocoon of Greg's arms and body and secondly Greg was asleep as well.  

 

Smiling Mycroft turned so he could lean against Greg and settled in for another hour or so to sleep before getting dinner. 

 

As he closed his eyes he thought of one thing.  Raquel Franco was right, home is where you hear love within the stillness.  

 

 

 


	362. Icy night

27\. Icy night

 

 

 

Greg read the email with a heaviness settling inside him, every sentence was slowly hurting him a bit more.  Mrs. Spalding who used to look after him as he grew up was dead.  Brutally assaulted in her home, in the outskirts of West Ham, the report stating evidence pointed to gang violence.   It wasn’t fair; then again, Greg is an expert on how unfair life could be.  It didn’t matter how hard you try sometimes, bad things happen.  You just need to move on and deal with it.

 

Still

 

Mrs. Spalding introduced him to ginger nuts and Jaffa cakes and would spoil him rotten with the biscuits as he grew up, after school he would do his homework and then help her with a few of her chores that she was unable to do, he enjoyed the gardening side, it allowed him to be constantly outside.  She was the reason he didn’t mix with the wrong crowd and ended up on the streets. He owed her so much. 

 

With a shaking hand he closed the email and logged off, it was time to go home anyway.  Pulling on the jacket he buttoned it up and walked out.  It was a cold night, winter was here and soon it would be Christmas.  This year he won’t have to go see him, nor have amazing Christmas biscuits with sweet tea, he can always make it himself, but it won’t be the same.

 

Mycroft was on his way home when Anthea reported the news to Greg.  They have been seeing each other for almost a month now and were still in the beginning stages.  He was just thinking about Greg and wondered if it would be too soon to invite him over for Christmas dinner with his parents.  It’s not like he had any other family and they’ve known each other for a few years now, so he would considered that it was okay, but he will have to check with Greg.

 

Greg had talked on several occasions about the woman who looked after him and was basically responsible for the sweet tooth that Greg has.  Her murder was sudden and Mycroft hated it, wishing for once he could’ve helped somehow or prevented it.  Greg was going to be devastated.

 

Leaning over he gave the driver instructions to take him to Greg’s, good thing too as they were halfway there when he saw Greg walking down the street, without his gloves or scarf.  His shoulders were heavy with the news and Mycroft briefly closed his eyes. 

 

Greg heard his name being called from the street and when he turned around he was shocked to see Mycroft was nearly running to him, with his coat on his arm.

 

“Mycroft?”   Mycroft instantly threw his coat around Greg and ripping off his scarf wrapped it around Greg as well

 

“In this weather, the news report of an icy night and you decided to forgo gloves or a scarf.”  Greg looked down to see that he was indeed without those winter accessories and looked at Mycroft.

 

“Sorry Love, I was upset.”

 

“Are upset.  You still are, and it’s okay, come on, let’s get you home.”

 

“You heard?”

 

Mycroft nodded and pulled Greg into the waiting car, once inside he closed the door and pulled Greg close. 

 

“I’m sorry Gregory.”

 

Greg just took a breath and pushed himself closer to Mycroft.  They didn’t speak as they drove home.

 

 

 


	363. Between words

28\. Between words

 

 

 

The first time it happened all the warning lights inside Sherlock’s mind went off.  It looked like a disco party.  Greg was at Baker Street, either asking for help on a case or checking up on Sherlock.  He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when Mycroft walked in.  The atmosphere was charged instantly, nothing concrete mind you, but Sherlock could feel something was different.  He turned to Mycroft and back to Greg, nothing in their posture indicating that something was wrong or even different, yet it was there.   He spent a total of forty seconds on the problem before it was going to be obvious something is bothering him and Mycroft was going to start asking questions.  Putting it aside he went for his usual ice breaker, insulting his brother and the Yard while he was at it.

 

 

 

The second time something was ‘off’ was at a crime scene.  The feeling of adventure was strong in the air and he could feel his blood pumping faster as the puzzle was in front of him.  He turned around and saw Mycroft was there.  Rolling his eyes he made his way over there when he saw it. Mycroft was looking at someone else and there was a certain softness before it disappeared as he turned to Sherlock.  Sherlock quickly glanced in the direction where Mycroft looked, there was no one; the person must have gone inside the house. 

 

He spent a total of five minutes talking with Mycroft before he climbed back in the car and left.  As Sherlock turned around to go back to the crime scene the first thing he saw was Greg coming out the house, his eyes fixed on him, or more precisely were Mycroft’s car was.

 

 

 

The third time was at Greg’s office and Mycroft came by to pick up Sherlock for whatever reason.  Mycroft stepped out of the elevator and made his way to Greg’s office as if he did it on a regular basis; he even nodded in the directions of Detective Dimmock who waved briefly.  Sherlock was on full alert and concentrated on Greg’s face.  Greg was smiling and his eyes were what was that? ‘sentimental’?  ‘soft?’.  It didn’t matter as Mycroft stepped inside and started talking.

 

 

 

The fourth time he got his confirmation, he stood outside Greg’s flat and watched as the black car came to a stop.  Greg climbed out, still laughing and fixing his shirt, after him Mycroft climbed out and turned to Greg.  Sherlock was unable to read his brother’s lips as he was standing with his back to him, but whatever it was, Greg was happy and responding to it.  He lifted his hand to slide it over Mycroft’s shoulder, a soft smile on his lips.

 

‘Missing you already’ Sherlock read and Mycroft stepped closer.  A light bulb went on in Sherlock’s head as he remembered Mycroft is going out of the country tonight, a week most likely.  To his surprise Mycroft took hold of Greg’s hands and looking sideways he placed a brief kiss on Greg’s hand.  Sherlock didn’t catch the next words out of Greg’s mouth as he was so focused on his their actions between the words that whatever was being said was drowned out by the things their actions was saying.

 

 

 


	364. Diurnal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my soul, three to go and this is finished. I can hardly believe it.

29\. Diurnal

 

Greg was enjoying his day off, it doesn’t come around often enough so when it does, he usually do the normal everyday task, like laundry, staying in bed late, maybe go out for a quick lunch or whatever he may fancy.

Today he decided he was going to spent the day out, the first trip was the Modern Tate museum, after that the Natural History Museum.  To his surprise they had an exhibition on at the moment.  ‘The contribution of diurnal and nocturnal insects to the pollination of floral biology.’

Greg was no science guru, nor one of those who needed to know everything about insects and the pollination of certain flowers, he would usually choose more safe options, like flies are irritation and always close to a dead body, flowers are beautiful and colourful and smell nice -  it also makes great gifts for prospect partners.  He knows flowers have meaning and each one represent something else, but the more techny sides, he has no clue. 

So it was pure boredom and interest that he decided to take part in the exhibition, who knows he might learn something new.

First there was a video, explaining it more in detail with diagrams and pictures and funny cartoons, he will never admit it, but that actually helped him a great deal in understanding all of this.  After that the tour started. 

To his surprise he noticed a very interesting and familiar silhouette towards the front of the crowd, a three piece suit, an umbrella hooked on one arm and a booklet about the exhibition.  Greg smiled and took out his phone.

_“Don’t tell me terrorists are considering the flora and fauna to attack? I really hope you are here to enjoy the exhibition. GL”_

He watched as Mycroft took out his phone and frowned when he read the text, he lifted his head and looked around but Greg hid behind a pillar.  The reply was almost immediately

**“Gregory? MH.”**

_“Oh good, you remembered my name, bonus points. Hi. GL”_

**“Where are you? MH.”**

_“Do you actually need a booklet? Don’t you and Sherlock have like Britannica and Google pre-installed?  GL”_

Greg revelled in the fact that instead of frowning, Mycroft gave a small chuckle of laughter.

**“Aah the secret is out; well I need to try to keep up appearances somehow. MH”**

_“Makes sense.  Your secret is safe with me.  GL”_

**“Are you planning on hiding behind the pillar all day or should we get on with the tour? MH”**

Greg read the text and smiled, of course Mycroft figured out where he was, he started typing.

“Fine...”

“Good choice.” Greg nearly dropped his phone as Mycroft’s voice came over his shoulder, the man sneaked up on him. 

“Hey“  Greg tried but could see Mycroft was very smug looking.

“Gregory, what a surprise meeting you here. “ 

“Yeah well, my off day and decided to see some culture.”

“Wonderful, shall we get going?”  Mycroft asked and turned to where the exhibition was held.

“Sure, only if we stop for coffee afterwards, I will need it after all this science stuff.”

“I can manage that.”

 

 


	365. Luminist

30\. Luminist

The voice upstairs was filled with surprise, wonder and a hint of awe.  Mycroft eyes widen before his body sagged, Greg found out his secret.  He was going to tell him, but he was waiting for the right moment.  They have only been dating for a few months now, so he thought it might be a bit soon to reveal that intimate part of him. 

Now, he the choice was taken out of his hands.  Taking a breath to prepare himself for the confrontation he made his way upstairs. 

“My!”  The voice travelled down the stairs.

“I’m on my way Gregory.”  He answered with trepidation.  Before he reach the top, Greg appeared, his face reminded Mycroft a small boy who found Santa remembered every single gift he wanted throughout the year.  Mycroft was flabbergasted.  He expected mockery, unbelief but not this.  Never this.

“Gregory?” his voice was soft, hesitant like fog trying to stand strong in the sunlight. 

“That’s your work right?” Greg asked as he took Mycroft’s hand, his face still sparkling. 

“Yes. I was going to tell you, it’s just a hobby, and I tried to...”  Mycroft tried to explain, his hand clenching Greg’s willing him to understand.  Greg squeezed back before he exclaimed happily.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“You think so?” Mycroft blurted out, his face betraying the surprise he felt.  Greg nodded eagerly.

“I’m no world renown critic, but I think I got pretty good taste, awesome actually considering I’m with you, but still.  I’d buy that in a heartbeat. “

They walked toward the room at the end of the hallway, and stepped inside, Mycroft looked at his landscapes, a few was drying on the easel, and the rest were all neatly stacked against the wall.  His big secret is that he loves to paint.  He loved to mix his landscapes with either a skyline or a road, at various times of the day, so he could play with the light.  He turned back to Greg who was staring at a big one against the wall, it was a skyscraper but in the day and it was raining, with the sun shining through clouds here and there, and the light streaks were spread across the canvas. 

“I’m no art expert as I said, but this is a landscape right?”

“Yes, the particular term is luminism.  The play with various light.”

“It’s so good.  Why have you been hiding this from me?”

“Honestly?  I didn’t know how you’d react to it, you were pretty amazed at me playing the piano and this might just I don’t know, make me too ponchy or weird for someone like you.”

“Ponchy?  I must be a terrible influence for you to talk like that.”

“Must be.” Mycroft retorted.  Greg stepped closer so he was looking at Mycroft.

“I absolutely love this about you, my perfect boyfriend who serenades me with Beethoven and Mozart, who paints light as I’ve only dreamed about, I know we’ve been dating a few months, but do you mind if I keep you?”

Mycroft looked down as Greg’s word registered, he pulled Greg close and buried his head in his neck.

“Thank you.”

“Is that a yes to keeping you?”  Greg softly asked as he pulled him even closer.

Mycroft nodded instead of replying. 

“Good.  I found myself a luminist.”

“Huh?” Mycroft was confused as he pulled away to look at Greg.

“A luminist, bringing light wherever he goes, shining in the darkness, lighting my path, and making me alive after a dark night.”

“I think it’s the other way round Gregory.”

 

 


	366. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.   
> The last one, it feels as though I'm saying goodbye to a constant companion and friend. 
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.

31\. Resolution

The atmosphere was light and easy, they were having dinner at Mycroft’s place and both Sherlock and John were there.  it was the end of one year and in a few hours, a new year would start.  Ever since Mycroft started dating Greg, his relationship with Sherlock had improved somewhat, enough that they could have dinner in a reasonable comfortable setting.  Mycroft became more easy going and even made a joke or two. 

It was clear to see, that Greg was a good influence on him.  After dinner they decided to sit in the living room, the fire was cracking, the snow was thick outside, and soft music was playing in the background.   They were sitting comfortably, Sherlock and John stretched out on one sofa, Mycroft and Greg on the other. 

“So…” John said as he looked at them.

“…are you going to make New Year’s resolutions?”  Sherlock snorted, clearly voicing his opinion.  Mycroft and Greg looked at each other, shrugging.

“I don’t really make those, if I want to change something I do it when I want to, don’t really see the point in waiting a whole year.” Greg voiced as he took a swallow of his drink.  John nodded as he agreed with that.  Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Typical of you Lestrade.  Always so practical.”

“Thank you.”  Greg replied a mixture between sarcasm and muckiness.  Sherlock pulled his face and Mycroft looked impressed.  He pulled Greg close and not caring who sees snuggled against him.  John looked at them with a smile and squeezed Sherlock’s hand tighter.  Sherlock in the meantime narrowed his eyes on his brother, who sighed.

“Out with brother.”

“Are you going to make New Year’s resolution?  A new diet?”

“I might make a few changes, I’ve already done this year something I never done before, so maybe I should keep it up.”

“What’s that?”  John asked.  Greg lifted his hands and smiled and looked beyond smug.

“Me, he started a relationship with me.”  Sherlock groaned and hid his head on John’s shoulder, Mycroft turned to Greg, still surprised that Greg is happy to be with him. 

“Yes, I did.”

“So what are you going to do different this year, marry him?” Sherlock asked sarcastically

Mycroft looked at Greg.

“Depends on whether he asks.”   Greg smiled.

“Oh I must ask?”  Sherlock and John looked at each other then back at them who in turn only had eyes for one another.

“You are the romantic one Gregory.”

“Says the man who whisks me away for a romantic weekend away in Norway, cause I once said I’ve always wanted to see the Northern lights.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm.  Just for interest sake, will you say yes if I ask?”  Greg tried jokingly, but the desperation in his voice betrayed him.   Mycroft looked back at him.

“You’ll have to ask, oh by the way,  I want a white gold ring not too thin, not too thick either just enough space for a few engravings.”   Mycroft said it so straight-faced and factual that all three stared at him for a few seconds. 

Greg lifted Mycroft’s hand to kiss the palm.

“What kind of engravings?”

“A few names.”  Mycroft looked at Greg his face open and Greg eyes widen.

“You mean…”

“Yes.  A family.” 

John and Sherlock stared at each other, mouths hanging open, and as one they turned to the couple in front of them.  Greg pulled Mycroft into a hug.

“The only resolution I make is to never ever stop loving you, to always be there and to stand next to when we are the best parents in the whole world.”

 

 


	367. Special announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special announcement

Halle everybody 

 

After much and deep reflection and thought  ( 2 requests,  20 min Google search,  12 pages and 10 minutes ) I've decided to start a brand new series for 2017.  

I might start early or not,  it may be on time,  or not,  however there will be 365. 

Hope you all are ready,  I certainly are anxious,  and just a little bit freaked out starting all over again.  

 

 

 


End file.
